


Where Worlds Meet

by HeirOfRage



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Apprentice Dipper Pines, Bad Decisions, Bad Jokes, Bill is an asshole, Dipper and Mabel are among the chosen ones, Dipper does some stupid things along the way, Dipper doesn't get involved in it until he is 18, God Bill Cipher, God Tad Strange, Legends, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Older Pines Twins, Past Bill Cipher/The Author | Original Stanford Pines, Poor Life Choices, Slow Build, brief mention of sexual content, nothing new, too many references and hidden symbols
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeirOfRage/pseuds/HeirOfRage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gravity Falls is a small, poor town surrounded by thick mist. Separated from the rest of the mortal world by natural borders, they have to depend only on themselves and their Gods. These Gods are patient and understanding, though they all have their bad sides. The Great Five is worshipped at all times and every fifty years, they make an appearance to their worshippers, picking a Lucky Five to join them respectively. </p><p>Mabel and Mason Pines are 15 when they choose their Primary Gods. While Mabel wants to help, Mason is interested in knowledge. But the God is quite the madman himself and he isn't sure if he can trust the man. It takes time but he starts finding clues scattered around the House of Cosmos, leading him to believe that there is something foul going on here.</p><p>After all, he has seen the symbols scribbled all over this book somewhere. Somewhere at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forgotten Lands, Forgotten Fears

Behind a curtain of towering pines, where the land meets the ocean and nothing more lies the sleepy town of Gravity Falls. Shrouded by a permanent cloud of mist, the town doesn’t pride in itself being well known, if known at all. People that have passed through this town never remember as much as its name yet they never forget the mysterious atmosphere that surrounds the peninsula nor the dreary feeling it leaves in the back of their minds. It doesn’t last long enough to be considered important, therefore if you ask someone about Gravity Falls, you will get no answer. And if yes, they will tell you that such place doesn’t exist and must be some kind of a made up spot the local madmen imagined. After all, there is no proof it exists.

Life in the town is tough. They have absolutely no trade benefits with other towns, only able to rely on fishing and agriculture and sometimes mining when the Gods bless them with ores. Among the inhabitants, some people also function as tailors, bakers, blacksmiths or something akin to merchants but since the town is poor, money is out of the question, therefore an organised market is the only way of their survival - small trades between people, who exchange their goods for those of another.

What makes the town unique is the supernatural air that hangs around in the form of thick mist that lazily floats through the valley, never going higher than the mountains. Anomalies and horrific sights are not uncommon, though the villagers are protected by the Gods they worship.  
Above the town stands a grand ancient shrine made of white stone with a tall staircase leading up to it. It towers high, casting the town into shadows with his graciousness and menacing power. The tall ceilings carry intricate carvings and pictures along which viridescent vines run, completing the frames of the story they tell. In a perfect half-circle, five tall, omniscient marble statues tower in an intimidating fashion. They had taken years to complete, but with their precisely crafted curves, they pleased the Gods more than enough.  
Two times a year, during the Summer and Winter Solstices, they celebrate these Gods, throwing small festivals in their honour, bringing offerings larger than usually, one by one, each having the right to voice their wishes and prayers. They say that Solstices and the All Hallows’ Eve are the days at which the link between the mortal and divine worlds are the closest at.  
At the age of fifteen, and during the Solstices, the young adults must choose their primary God, the one who they wish to worship the most, the one, who they want to follow while choosing their future. The great five are named accordingly: Enten, Minerva, Atomos, Leviathan, and Cosmos.

Enten is the God of earth, the soil underneath their bare feet, growth and fertility. The patron of farmers that slave on the work fields all day long to take care of the crops. The one that makes sure the soil is fertile and bears enough life to grow crops which in turn feed the villagers. From the elders’ stories, he is an older man, but no older than forty years, with pale chestnut hair glimmering silver in the sunlight, skin pale and hands calloused to symbolise the hard work. Wrinkled eyes gaze with fondness and respect towards the soil and workers as he watches over them, large hands brought together as he awaits the season’s harvest to come.  
His statue is the first on the left, depicting him in a simple tunic, worn out pants, an ivy wreath tangled in his hair and a string of garlic held in his hand.

The second on the left is Minerva, the Goddess of the expanse of flora surrounding the peninsula from the north side, all the way up to the mountains, as well as the fauna living in the area. She mainly keeps the villagers safe from any ambush from the local creatures and takes care of those wounded, humans and animals alike. She is a cruel mistress with sharp features, like a mother or a teacher, but she can be kind and forgiving when one deserves it.  
Woven through her hair are pale coloured flowers as her statue stands proudly with a hand over heart, the other gently outstretched in front of her. She wears a light tunic accented with series of thin leather belts carrying pouches of dry and fresh herbs.

In the middle stands Leviathan, the fearless Goddess of the ocean, the unknown depths, the water flow in the streams and rivers. Water is the essence of life and by the extension creation, the subject she shares with her fellow, Cosmos, though rather than the process and matter, hers are the designs, the ideas as imagined. She is a patron of the artists, artisans, tailors and blacksmiths included. She appears as a young woman with high cheeks and silky skin, eyes of a viper and flowing hair. She is the image carved into boats and paddles, specially crafted to be protected against the moody ocean currents.  
Her statue stands proud, her rippling gown overflowing over the pedestal like water, in multiple cascades, hands cupped and raised in front of her lithe statue as if she were awaiting rain to fall.

The second to last, or rather second from right is Atomos, who symbolises the sky, he is the atmosphere and the thunder, the clouds and the rain. The younger brother of Cosmos takes pride in manipulating the weather as well as emotions for they are very similar subject, changeable yet somewhat fluid and mending together. He is there when life is created, when it goes through its cycles, when it disappears. He is a guardian and a guide, always ready to lend a helping hand.  
The statue of him portrays a young man with his hands raised to the sky, face turned up to gaze towards the sky, smooth skin pale and adorned with bruise-like marks in pale blue with his eyes matching them. Hair falls in his face, though he would rather prefer it swept away. His clothing is equally light as the others’, though a notch more elegant.

The last, or well, first on the right and the eldest and most ethereal is Cosmos. The universe itself, the vast expanse of divine knowledge, the answer to all questions. He reigns over the mind, knowing its limits, strengths, and weaknesses. He holds the key to learning and all the secrets of time and space. Not many people choose him as their primary God, even though their thirst for knowledge is immense. They know better. Cosmos is the most dangerous one and many fear the unknown for it has not been discovered yet.  
The design of his statue is the most mysterious one of all. No one alive has ever seen the God’s face. Legends say that one gaze at his true form and you will instantly go blind, others say it will kill you, some claim you will see your biggest fears come true. Therefore, the form is faceless, head encased in what looks like a triangle, body slender and tall, fingers long like claws, palms open to the skies as well as his arms. His skin is dark, black like the void with stars all over dusted like birthmarks or freckles. He doesn’t seem to bear any possessions, wearing a long dark gown of silk, barefoot like the rest of the Gods.

They might not be the best of choice but the culture of Gravity Falls has never had a real religion until these Gods came a long, long time ago, offering a promising deal that as long as they are worshipped, they will be willing to assure the survival of the townsfolk.

That’s why the festivals were created. Celebrations and offerings are amplified and in turn, the Gods listen to the humans. On top of that, every fifty or so years, usually during the Winter Solstice, the Gods make an appearance in the little town, giving the humans an opportunity of a lifetime. Each God can choose one of their worshippers (those, who have chosen them as a primary deity) to return to their realm with them. There, they are going to train to become servants and maidens that accompany their respectful God. Usually, they tend to choose the younger devotees, for they still have enough time left. 

Those are also the cases of Mason and Mabel Pines, though they don’t know about it yet.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Among the small, beaten houses of the town stands also the house belonging to the Pines family. The house consists of only three rooms as the family is just as poor as the next man. The kitchen is a fairly homely place, not too large, but not too small, serving as one of the main meeting rooms as the fire is always kept there. The next two rooms are bedrooms. One for the young twins and the other for their parents and grand uncle, Stan. There is also a fourth room - a small structure joined to the house in the back, made from stone and wood, but the doors there are always closed as if the room didn’t exist at all. 

Outside, frost clings to wooden covers, cold wind sneaks underneath the doors and cracks in walls, sending chills down the young teen’s spine. He pulls the worn out coat around him tighter, holding his shaking hands out near the stove to warm them on the fire crackling inside. From the corners of his eyes, he sees his sister mimic his actions, her petite hands coming to rest suspended in the air next to his own.  
“Do you have an offering for tomorrow's festival?” She asks him quietly, her teeth rattling soundly in response to the freezing temperatures. The wind whistles behind the cold walls, making the male turn his head to the poorly isolated door. He doesn’t respond to her question for a while, frowning into the dark corner.  
“Yes. I do. It….It’s nothing much and it’s something dear to me. It cost me a lot of work and it would be a shame to give up but I want to impress, you know? Show that my studies have not been fruitless.”

He pauses as another strong gust of wind slips past the door, shivering a little. He instinctively moves closer to the fire, fingers retreating to grip at the thick wool that covers his chest, undoubtedly covered in copious amounts of layered dirt and debris, with dry leaves clinging to it. It’s dark forest green in colour, matching his ratty hat, and probably has also plenty of holes in it, but he will have to wait for a while until Mabel can get around to fix it for him. Most likely, he is going to need a new one very soon but since they are poor and have barely any money left to spare, he doubts that it’s going to happen.

“But I am pretty set on doing what I have to do. And I have made sure to do a good job. After all, I have been preparing for several years and you know how hard it was. This household has literally two books on a good day-- I had to go and beg Pacifica to lend me some of hers as soon I was able to read everything coherently.”

At this point, it is completely obvious that maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to inquire about his offering. After all, it was painfully obvious that he has everything ready and set. He probably has a small piece of a cheaply produced paper with a complete schedule and a speech on it. That’s just how Mason is and there is no point in trying to do something about it.

“I know, brother mine. I just asked if you had it. A simple yes would be enough,” Mason’s sister laughs softly, sniffling a little when her nose starts running.  
“You think mom’s set up the fire in our room already? It’s getting late and we should really catch some sleep for tomorrow,” she sighs and looks over at the door behind them, waiting for their mother to come through.  
“I would think so. It just takes a while.” 

Soon after their conversation is over, the boy adds a few logs into the pit of fire to keep it going, watching as flames lick at the wood hungrily, slowing devouring them one by one until Mabel shakes him from his trance. He turns, eyes sliding from his sister to his mother standing in the doorway. Without any need for words, he gets up from the floor and follows his sister into their room, pulling the coat around him tighter as he walks from one room to another, the change of temperature imminent.  
His own teeth rattle just the slightest as he climbs into the hay cot along with Mabel, watching as their mother fixes a blanket over them, wishing them a good night.

His eyes fall to his sister’s form, watching her body quake even under the thick layers of wool. Automatically, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer into an embrace, keen on keeping her warm through the night.  
It’s easy to tell when she falls asleep, her breath steady against the exposed skin of his neck where his collar does a bad job of covering it properly. 

Falling asleep is always the hardest part for him. Hazel eyes stare at the shadows dancing across the wall above the small dresser and next to the broken mirror, flickers turning into images, stories, for the drooping tired eyes. He catches himself almost sleeping several times but his anxiety always prevents him from doing so. So he starts counting sheep but that also doesn’t prove to be of much use and leaves him with nothing else just simply rehearsing tomorrow’s prayers in his head. Luckily, that does the trick and after half an hour, the boy drifts off to sleep.


	2. Marble Giants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D-Day happens. They try to take their minds off what's to come, but nothing can truly distract them.  
> Words are said, thoughts spilled and bad decisions made.
> 
> And now?
> 
> We wait.

The morning is surprisingly warmer than last night and it’s something Mason finds out with a small sound of delight as the early morning sun sneaks between the wooden covers over the window on the wall opposite of him. He also finds out that his sister is still asleep, so he takes the liberty of waking her up silently, smiling down at her when she opens her eyes.  
“Good morning, Mabel,” he hums as her mouth stretches into a grin and she sits up abruptly, greeting the entire household and couple more houses with a loud calling:  
“Goooood morning, Gravity Falls!” She calls out, the greeting followed by the cheery sound of her laughter before she jumps up to her feet.

“Race you to the kitchen. Last one there is a soggy loaf of bread!” She trips over a startled Mason, bolting to the door. Her twin mirrors her and with a small laugh of his own, he follows her, fighting her for the hold on the door handle as both of them simultaneously try to open and close the door at the same time to escape and prevent the other from leaving first. 

Mabel ends up winning the fight, shouting with glee as she slips into the next room. However, her brother isn’t giving up all that easily, springing up and crashing down on his sister’s back, holding onto her with his arms and legs. Surprisingly easily, the girl shakes him off, slamming him against the floor with a fierce battle cry worth a warrior, throwing her hands up in the air in victory. Mason meanwhile howls with laughter on the cold, hard ground, kicking his legs a little as he pushes himself off the floor. 

Together they walk up to the table and sit down on the splintered, creaky benches, watching as their mother fills up two wooden bowls to the brim with thick potato chowder, giving them each a slice of bread to go with it.  
“There you go. Now eat up. It’s a big day for you today,” the older woman smiles as she puts food in another bowl, no doubt going to bring it to the old man still sleeping in his own cot.  
“And don’t forget to prepare your offerings before going outside so you don’t forget them in the afternoon!”

The twins nod in unison as they stuff their faces with the chowder and bread, racing each other quickly to finish the food. This time, it’s Mason’s turn to win, fair and square. He grins at the girl opposite to him, already getting up from the table with her in tow. They run out of the house, once again racing but this time to the town’s square to help with the preparations for the festival. 

They are neither the first nor the last to arrive, seeing as quite a few people still wanted to finalise working on their offerings. Immediately, the two of them are greeted by their friend, Wendy, who gives them a grin and ruffles their hair.  
“Hey, guys! About time you came. Now I can go slack off,” she jokes, thrusting her shovel into Mason’s hands.  
“I left you a pretty sizeable patch, big guy. Better shovel it away before someone starts complaining! Anyway, I am off now, we are going to bury Thompson in the snow. Smell you later, dogs!” And with that, she leaves, waving them goodbye as she runs across the cleared out stone path that leads away from the square.

Neither of them had enough time to respond to Wendy’s banter, but they still shared a look of mischief. Maybe if they manage to finish here quickly, they can still make it to the snow burial play before Thompson manages to kick his way out from the heavy snow cover.

Mason nods at his sister and rushes across the square to shovel the remaining snow away, building small half-walls between the shops and houses around it. These serve as impromptu candle holders, so he has to make sure that they are strong enough to hold them.  
Removing the wet and heavy snow takes him a good while, and one point, he can feel a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He wipes it with the back of his hand quickly, pushing his hat out of his face when it starts to fall down. 

When he is done, he goes to return the shovel to its rightful place, taking a broom instead so he could sweep the remaining snow off to the side, glancing around the square to where his sister is balancing on a dangerously looking makeshift ladder held up by her two friends, Candy and Grenda, as she puts up hand-made decorations on the Town Hall. He scoffs at the proximity with which the ladder balances on two uneven legs, wobbling in the grasp of the two other girls. He knows he can trust Grenda, the local butcher’s daughter, with her strength in case the ladder gives up and Mabel falls. When it comes to Candy, though, the doctor’s daughter shouldn’t be trusted as much and definitely not when it comes to injuries, so there is a small reservation there. She is not a bad person, though. Maybe a little twisted, but so is everyone and that’s what makes Gravity Falls the true Gravity Falls. Even the gravity here would quit its job if it could.

With a soft smile and a shake of his head, he returns to his work, sweeping the square once again to make sure that the job is perfectly done. Backing up as he moves the ratty tool, he finds himself almost tripping and falling backwards on the snow-free stairs leading up to the temple. The massive yet beautiful stone structure towering above him brings a certain fear to him and he can already feel the coil in his stomach. The previously warm sweat turns cold, his palms clammy. His eyes scan over the formidable structure one more time, the warning bells in his head going off, wreaking havoc, and he swears he can feel that he is being watched.

Setting his jaw, he takes a deep, long breath of the cold winter air, tearing his gaze from the temple. The grip on his broom tightens and he goes to return it next to the shovel, cupping his hands around his mouth once done so that his voice would be louder and carry over the wind.

“Hey! Are you done yet, Mabel?” He calls out for his sister, watching as she gives him a thumbs up from the ladder before jumping down on the stone pavement.  
“Yeah, we can go!” She calls right back and grabs the other two girls, pulling them along to meet up with her brother half-way. Together they continue out of the square and down the snowy path and towards the graveyard, where one of Wendy’s friends, Robbie, lives. Apparently, they have shoveled a good amount of snow from under the weeping willow standing guard between the graveyard and Robbie’s house, which turned out be just as much of a shack as anyone else’s. 

True to Dipper’s knowledge, a group of young adults stand near the willow, kicking and piling the last bits of snow on top of a small dune that is covering the entirety of Thompson’s body.

“Hey guys, you made it!” Wendy calls out to them, ramming her shoulder against the willow to force more snow, and by extension ice, from its branches. It is then used by Nate and Lee to cover the top of the dune till it remains immobile.

“Yeeaaah...we did,” Mason laughs awkwardly, coming closer to kick at ‘Thompson Hill’ nonchalantly, yet in an interested way.  
“Sooo….you guys made holes for him so he can breathe, right?” He leans over, swaying from side to side to observe the mass, looking for a sign that breathing holes are a thing. Not so surprisingly, they don’t turn out to be and he lifts his head just in time to see the remaining four give each other questioning glances before Nate eventually sobers up with an: “Oh shit, Thompson!” and dives forward to where the man’s head is, quickly shoving snow off his face to give him access to oxygen.

Mabel and Mason share a look of amusement but also concern as Thompson’s face finally surfaces and he takes a deep breath, lips blue from the lack of oxygen. Gods know how long he has been buried underneath it.

“Dude, Thompson, you okay, buddy?” Lee joins in, crouching on the other side of Thompson’s head, giving him a few light slaps to make sure he is still functioning and aware of his surroundings. With joined forces of the others, they all manage to pull him out of the snow, wet and freezing. Mason quips in something about hypothermia and the other three men take it as a cue to drag the shivering lad back home where he can get warmed up by fire.

That leaves Mabel, Mason, Tambry and Wendy all alone with a few hours to waste.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ow, ow, mom no! I told you it’s no use!” Mason groans as his mother combs his tangled mess of hair, attempting to make it look presentable. It turns out to be a task harder than expected, the unwashed hair refusing to cooperate. With a defeated sigh, the woman holds her hands up, setting the brush on the kitchen table, putting her son’s hat back on his head, tucking his ears under it carefully.

She then pulls back to wipe the dirty smudges off his cheeks, smiling gently once they are gone and all that’s left is the rosy skin underneath.  
“There. All good,” she pulls away and grabs the brush, looking over to her daughter on the other end of the table.  
“Mabel, sweetie, are you done already?” She asks with the same gentle voice, the smile ever present as Mabel weaves the last of flowers into her braided hair.  
“As done as I can be!” The girl chimes in right away, getting up after a while to check her appearance in the small silver hand mirror. Once she is satisfied, she sets it down on the table and together, with her brother, they pick up their offerings, each a secret wrapped in simple cloth. Neither of them know about each other’s choices of Gods, although it is more than obvious in Mason’s place. They just haven’t talked about it out loud since it’s considered ‘taboo’ to give it away like that.

The three of them get joined by the other two males living in the household. Their father gives them a big bear hug, patting their backs affectionately while Stan grumbles in the background.  
“There you are! My two grown ups!” He laughs, parting away after a while of nothing but squeezing the twins.  
“Are you ready?”

The twins respond by nodding eagerly, turning to look at each other for support. Mabel’s free hand finds its way into Mason’s and he gives it a squeeze in a silent vow that everything is going to be okay. After all, it’s just a festival and they only have to choose their future tonight. Nothing too bad, right?

Hands still on the twins’ shoulders, their father pulls them out of the shack, followed closely by their mother and complaining Stan, whose complaints turn more comical the more he talks about nonsense. Mason suspects it might be just a trick to keep the twins distracted from the inevitable fate that awaits them. 

By the time they reach the square, the feeling of being watched returns and almost makes Mason stop in his tracks but he forces himself to continue walking towards all the people waiting for them.  
They look like a cult, he thinks, his gaze sliding up the stairs. But that’s what they all probably are.

His family squeezes into its place among the others, all eagerly waiting for the festival to be officially started by none other by the Northwest family standing next to the mayor. Preston, Priscilla and their daughter, Pacifica, all stand next to the scrawny mayor, Toby, the former bell boy...man, whatever.  
Accompanied by a push from her father, Pacifica steps forward, giving Toby what can only be described as a look of disgust.

“I officially initiate the Winter Solstice Festival,” she announces with a proud move of her chin towards the sky, puffing her chest a little to appear more confident. The small crowd of townsfolk erupts into a round of applause, all cheering as they turn to light the candles and share food among each other while they boast about their offerings to each other. Except for the youngsters that are going to be a part of the final ceremony today, who have to keep shut about the things they’ve brought.

Mason turns when the crowd dissolves and he too follows his sister, still holding her hand, who immediately runs towards Lazy Suzan who is giving out pastries with jam to everyone for the occasion. He doesn’t even realise how hungry he is until he bites into the goodness in his hand, moaning softly at the taste of strawberries leaking from the inside. Mabel grasps his elbow and pulls him away from the crowd and over to the shore, pointing at the last remains of the sun.

“It’s so pretty,” she says with her mouth full, sitting down on an oblong rock, beckoning her brother to join her.  
“Do you think that things are going to change after tonight?” She continues, not once looking at him, rather looking off into the distance.  
“I don’t know…” he starts, frowning down at the jam leaking from the treat he’s holding, ”..maybe? I haven’t really given it much thought--”  
“Oh, of course, you have! Don’t act like you don’t know what I am talking about. I know the look on your face you always have when you think about this.”

Mason knows she is right, so he gives in with a defeated sigh.  
“I’m sorry. It’s just...kind of surreal. Like it’s all this big deal that is supposed to determine and seal our future, our devotion, the career we choose, the life we lead. All according to some Gods we made a deal with to ‘stay protected’. Have you never wondered what’s out there? What lies behind that mountain wall? On the other side of the ocean?”

She doesn’t reply for a good while, chewing on her bottom lip exactly like he does when thinking hard about something.  
“...I can’t say I have not, but you know, I am happy here. It’s not anything fancy, but it’s home. I have my friends here, family, you! I wouldn’t be able to leave it all behind. Would you?” The amount of sincerity in her voice alarmingly terrifying.  
He almost forgets to speak out loud, his voice coming out as a shock of breath, a sound barely above a whisper: “I have. Many times. Surely I would miss this, but life goes on. I….I have a craving to learn new things..explore….stuff like that, you know?”

His sister doesn’t reply, finishing her treat quickly, and just in time for the offerings to be given. The people are let in one by one, going by the alphabet, each one disappearing behind thick, wooden door with decorative handles, given a while to pray.  
It takes a while and during this while, Mason finds himself growing more sweaty and anxious for the following ceremony. 

He is the very last one on the list. All the other kids are in front of him and he isn’t sure if it’s for the better or not. He clutches the offering to his chest as they urge him into a small line, sending the first one to the temple. He tries to calm his breathing, staring at the back of his sister’s head, shivering a little. Whether from cold or anticipation, he doesn’t know but he will soon find out.

The line disappears too quickly for his liking. He sees Candy go and come back with a bandage on her right hand, watches as Grenda nearly tumbles down the stairs, a grin on her face, one of her arms slumped, even Pacifica seems to be relieved after she leaves the temple, a single tear staining her cheek. He doesn’t know why, but he is soon going to figure that out. Before Mabel goes, she turns to him and gives him a quick ‘good luck’ hug, climbing the stairs in a hurry, her offering clutched to her chest.

Mason watches the girl disappear behind the temple’s door, nervously stomping his feet in anticipation mixed with fear on both his sister’s and his own behalf.  
On the other hand, the girl behind the door displays all the right signs of excitement. She is giddy and with a smile on her face she approaches the statues one by one, marvelling over the beauty of the craft, her fingers tracing the marble pedestals underneath their feet as she gives them a look one by one, careful not to step on any of the offerings underneath. She does a full circle around the room before looking down at the package in her hands. She unwraps it gently, smiling at the gift in her hands. A crown of dried flowers woven together tightly, adorned by a soft veil.

She glances back at the Gods, gently nibbling on her lower lip. Her eyes glide over to Leviathan, whom she has originally aspired to choose, but she has made her decision a while ago, walking over to the statue of Minerva.  
Kneeling, she places her offering on the altar in front of the statue, gazing upwards with silent words escaping her mouth, pouring out and falling like a waterfall. She tells the Goddess the reason why she chose her, about her love for animals and an aspiration to keep her family, and by extension the village, safe.

Once done, she gets up, returning to the small foyer where the old temple master awaits her.  
“Have you chosen, my child?” He asks with a kind voice and even kinder eyes, offering the girl a small smile.  
“I have. I feel like under Minerva’s aide, I can accomplish great things.”  
“Very well. Where would you like me to place your mark, child?” 

She thinks about it. Not too long and not too hard, but before she can stop herself, she moves her coat out of the way, turning her back to the man.  
“Shoulderblade. Or like, upper part of the shoulder from the back…” she bites her lip again, looking at her feet as the man shuffles around, undoubtedly getting his tools.

“This may hurt a little.”  
“Try me. I am a strong woman,” she retorts with a hint of challenge in her voice, not making any sounds as she feels the needle-like jabs penetrate her skin, staining it with colour. She stands there for a while, taking a few deep breaths. When it’s done, she pulls her coat back up, wrapping herself in it tightly.

“Is that all?” She asks, her voice wavering just the tiniest bit.  
“All,” the man nods with a smile gesturing towards the door, muttering a ‘Good luck’ to her before she leaves the temple, walking down the stairs with a smile on her face. She gives her brother thumbs up and a wink, watching him as he walks up the stairs with wide eyes, almost slipping and falling. Almost.

Pretending that just didn’t happen, he rushes up the stairs, too disappearing behind the heavy door. He nods at the man waiting there, passing by to go straight to the main hall. Unlike his sister, he goes right to the point, aiming for the statue of Cosmos on the far right side. Shuffling, he kneels, sitting back on the soles of his feet. He unwraps his offering, looking down at the small journal with cheap paper. It looks so stupid like this.

“Um, I’ve never done this properly before and I am really trying not to mess up here, so please, bear with me,” he begins, opening the journal on a random page that is covered with bits of information he gathered over the years, all distinguished and categorised accordingly.  
“It’s nothing much, but it’s something I’ve been working on really hard...and since you are the god of knowledge...I thought that it would be...fitting..” his gaze moves to the almost empty altar under the God’s feet and he nibbles on his lip, shifting so he can sit down more comfortably, crossing his legs.

“I know that this probably sounds really stupid and naive, but I believe that you are not like the others. And I don’t care what they say. For me, knowledge is an important aspect of life and everyone should know that…” he trails off, quietly rambling about the most of random things for a while, suddenly shutting himself.

“I think that was enough of embarrassing myself,” he chuckles and places the journal on the altar, pushing himself off the cold ground with frozen fingers.  
“I guess that I’ll be talking to you more often now..”

As he finishes that, he returns, planning on going outside, but ends up being stopped by the temple master.  
“Hello there, child, I trust that you are done with your choosing, correct?” Dipper nods at that, looking at the man as he continues.  
“Where would you like the mark of your God be placed?”

The question catches him off-guard. He was never told there would be anything like this included in the ceremony.  
“Do I have to get one?”  
“Of course, how do you want everyone to see who you are devoted to if you do not bear their mark?”

That sounds logical, although he still isn’t quite sure about it.  
“Okay, um...I guess the back of my neck? Or is that stupid? Should I have it placed elsewhere?”  
The string of sentences has the man laughing quietly, shaking his head.  
“It’s your choice, child. But I suppose the suggestion is okay. Who is your God?”  
“...Cosmos.”

The smile disappears from the man’s face slowly, his jaw setting instead.  
“I see. You should be careful,” he gestures at him to turn around as he gets his tools ready.

“Or so I’ve been told,” Mason echoes right back, staring at the door anxiously. He almost jumps when he feels the pain on the back of his neck, letting out the tiniest of whimpers as the man works, making it quick.

“There,” he sets the tools down, fixing the young man’s clothes.  
“Now go along so we can continue celebrating.”

Nodding, Mason exits the temple, taking a deep breath as he looks down at his family. A small smile graces his lips as he descends, hearing the temple master exit too and walk down a little behind him.  
Immediately when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Mabel hugs him, laughing a little at his startled expression. 

The people return to their cheerful banter, but not for long. It takes about 10 minutes for them to quiet down, passing whispers among each other.

Finally, it’s McGucket who points above the crowd, shouting something that makes everyone turn their heads.  
“They are here!”


	3. The House of Cosmos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their fate is sealed. The Gods had their say and now the twins are admitted to their respective worlds, both foreign to their new environment.  
> In the meantime, Mason has to conquer the bathroom and finally get clean. Mabel would be proud of him.

One by one, heads turn, eyes following the direction McGucket is pointing in. For one, the temple’s doors are wide open, for another, five divine beings are slowly making their way down the stone stairs, robes swishing at their feet, messed up by the wind.  
Each has a different kind of glow around them, though the one glowing the most would be Cosmos. Instead of a faceless head, or a triangle, his head is like the sun - a flaming orb - hurting Mason’s eyes once he dares to look into the God’s ‘face’.

Everyone is stunned, to say the least, mouth gaping in silent awe. The first one to step down and to speak is Cosmos, closely followed by Atomos and Leviathan.

“Gravity Falls, it’s good to be back!” He calls out to the crowd, looking around the gathered crowd.  
“It’s been fifty years. I am quite surprised at the changes you went through, but also the disappointment that you are still stuck decades in the past,” he shakes his head, folding his arms in front of him, resting them on his thighs.

“Well, I could talk for days but I am sure that you humans don’t have enough time left in your lives to spare. So, I’ll be quick. I am sure that you all are aware why we came to visit. Every fifty years we appear to choose an apprentice that will study and serve in our respective homes. Only those who are truly worthy of it get chosen. There is no such thing as ‘luck’ in this situation. Therefore, without further ado…”

The God gestures back at Enten to choose first, the word progressing in the same order as their statues.  
With a small hint of amusement and confusion, Mason thinks that Cosmos’ voice doesn’t really fit the man and becomes more and more absurd the more he talks. It's a strange kind of a voice, slightly pitched yet still deep and echoing over the square.  
Getting lost in his thoughts, he almost overhears the news but is brought back to reality by shocking news, the following words catching him off-guard.

“Mabel Pines.”

“....and at last, Mason Pines.”

His eyes widen and he looks at his sister, who shares his bewildered look. Together they look back at their parents. They seem to be evenly as surprised, though the surprise is stained by both pride and denial. On one hand, it’s great that their kids were chosen, it’s an honour after all, but on the other, both of their kids are being taken away from them forever, until allowed to return. If ever.

“You all have an hour to pack and return to the temple,” Cosmos breaks everyone’s surprise as the Gods disperse, all going in different directions to check out how the town has changed after years.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Stan’s gruff voice comes from behind them, tearing them out of their own minds.  
“I think it’s time to go home,” he puts his large wrinkled hands on their shoulders, steering them away from the square and back to their house.

“Mom, what’s going to happen now?” Mabel asks, grabbing their mother’s hand, looking up at the woman as her voice trembles.

“....you two are obliged to pack your belongings and go with your Gods. They will take care of you from now on. I am so happy for you...yet so sad that my little babies are leaving me so soon…” she pauses and then continues with a sigh,” I suppose it would have happened either way. You would move out, get a job and a family nevertheless, but you would at least be in the same city. Now I don’t even know if we’ll ever see you again…” she trails off, staring into the distance.

Everyone stays silent until they reach their little shack, both kids going to their room to pull out whatever small amount of belongings they have, packing them into the small bags their mother gives them, helping them around.  
Throughout this time, Stan stands in the doorway, face scrunched into a frown as he watches the twins pack, a painful feeling of nostalgia fluttering in his chest, the image all too familiar, though with a certain lack of enthusiasm he remembers from all that time ago.

He tries to distract himself, averting his gaze from the kids, instead looking back to the kitchen, wondering where their father went. He disappeared as soon as they have returned home. That brings another, more prominent, frown to his face until it turns to a permanent scowl that is so often seen on his old features.

A hand on his shoulder gently pushes him out of the way and his gaze moves back to the room, looking down at his nephew’s wife as she slips past him into the kitchen to throw some logs into the fire. His gaze returns to the twins and he watches as Mason struggles with the bag’s strap, the devilish thing refusing to settle on his shoulder. With a small snort and a defeated sigh, the old man approaches his grand nephew, fixing the strap for him. He gets a nod as a thank you, raising his brows in amusement as both of the twins, in unison, strap hunting knives they got for their birthday to their belts under their coats. He couldn’t be more proud of them.

When it’s time to go, the twins get rushed out of the house by their mother. She grabs their hands, knowing that Stan will eventually follow to say his goodbyes and that her husband is already waiting at the square for them.  
The hour closes soon, bells chiming as a reminder from the Gods. The family reaches the square just in time, the last member joining them with a wide smile.

“Last goodbyes!” 

The voice ushers the family together. The twins’ mother grabs the gifts from her husband, handing them over.  
“They grow up so fast,” she whispers through tears and embraces her children, kissing their cheeks.  
“I am going to miss my little so much..” 

She once again kisses them, stepping back so that their father can do the same, ruffling their hair. Stan goes last, patting their back roughly.  
“I’m glad to get rid of you little brats. No more early morning wake-up calls,” he jokes, pinching Mabel’s cheek.  
“You two take care of yourselves, alright? You are adults now. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”  
“Like take a bath?” Mabel laughs and nudges her brother, who is also very well known for skipping baths.  
“Oh, stop it!” He immediately fires back, stopping soon after his outburst.  
“I’m going to miss you,” he sighs and hugs her, leaning against her slender body, burying his face in her braided hair.

“You too, bro-bro,” Mabel smiles, hugging Mason tightly, refusing to let go of him for what seems to be the longest time until Cosmos interrupts them:  
“Tick-tock, time is an illusion that I don’t have to spare, so I would appreciate it if you two could hurry up. I have duties to tend to.”

Not only is he an egocentric prick, but the God seems to have an impatience complex among all. The male sighs and parts from his sister, giving her one last smile before looking down at the gift in his hands, he quickly takes a peek inside, gasping softly. Inside is an expensive looking leather journal with quality paper, one he had wanted since forever, but also one they could never afford. He looks over at Mabel and she shows him a silver pin with a shooting star, immediately pinning it to her coat.

“Goodbye, brother.”

“Goodbye, sister.”

They part their ways, each going to their respective God. Mabel makes her way over to Minerva, who greets her with a warm smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, careful not to press over the fresh mark.  
On the other hand, Mason doesn’t get greeted as warmly, but in a more familiar fashion.

“Are you ready to acquire some real knowledge, kid?” He asks, offhandedly gesturing to the temple behind his back. It’s so nonchalant that Mason finds himself squinting into the fiery orb, silently judging and doubting that this guy is really a legitimate God.

“I guess? I wouldn’t be chosen if I wasn’t, right?” He comments with the same nonchalance, fixing the bag on his shoulder.  
“Smart boy.”  
He can basically hear the smirk in the God’s voice as he passes by Mason, walking right back up the stairs and towards the temple. The boy hurries after his God, casting one last glance at his family, waving at them.

He then turns back, watching Cosmos’ back as he disappears inside and with him, so does Mason, blacking out before he can notice what’s happening.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he comes to next, he is no longer anywhere near the temple, nor Gravity Falls.  
Heavily lids struggle to open, fluttering, lashes tickling reddened cheeks as the honey-glazed orbs finally open, finding themselves staring at a ceiling that is by no means ordinary. In fact, it resembles the night sky but seems to be much closer than what he has witnessed from the ground.

Slowly sitting up with his hands on the soft surface beneath him, he glances around, finding himself alone in a spacious circular room with soft yellow walls and floors of polished marble. Looking under himself, he tilts his head as his hands glide across the silky sheets, a feeling that is foreign to his hands, yet not entirely unwelcome. He suddenly remembers the state he is in: dirty torn clothes and skin covered with dirt, hair a tangled mess with even more dirt and sticks in it. He shouldn’t be here.

He slides off the silky sheets, removing his footwear as well as the socks filled with holes, placing them aside before getting up. He is surprised that the floor isn’t actually cold as he has imagined it to be, instead a pleasant cooling feeling against the warm, hurt bottoms of his feet. His toes curl in anticipation and he also sheds his coat and hat since he no longer has use for it in such warmth.

As soon as he is free of the bigger part of his garments, he walks around carefully, exploring the room. There isn’t much to it: two large doors, a heavy mahogany desk, a vanity table, few paintings and a smaller set of doors. He opens them, eyes widening at the sight of the large closet and wide selection of fine clothing. Not even Preston Northwest probably owns such a large collection of nice shirts.

He reaches in, grasping a light blue one, pulling it out of the closet to look at it. It’s elegant, yet casual, button up and its sleeves seem a little bit shorter than they should, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by that at all. He picks up a pair or black pants next, sizing them to his legs, surprised to find that they will fit perfectly. He should just start expecting these things from now on, most likely. His eyes fall on the shelf with undergarments from which he picks a random pair as he sees no real importance in that. What kind of confuses him is the lack of shoes anywhere in the room, making him frown and look down at his feet, testing them against the tiles again. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to go barefoot for once.

Gathering the clothes in one hand, he wanders around once again. Surely a nice place like this must have a bathroom somewhere, right? He tries the first of the large doors, jiggling the handle with confusion. Locked. 

That should leave the other door as the possible exit. Moving along the wall, he gently presses down on the golden knob of the ornate door, smiling when the wing slides open smoothly, revealing a bathroom, as big as his former room, with a snow-white porcelain clawfoot tub leaning against the back wall and a separate facility area. He sets the clothes on the small toiletry table, looking at the tub. It’s nothing like the one he’s been in before, wooden and falling apart. This one is solid and with a drainage hole on the bottom. Mason kneels and pokes the hole, amazed by the feature. He then gets up and glances at the table, grabbing a circular plug He turns it over in his hand, looking at the drain over it. To test his theory, he leans over the tub, experimentally pushing the plug in. When he notices it fits, he makes a gleeful sound, turning the faucet on with vigour and accomplishment clearly embedded on his face which only amplifies when he sees the clear water.

Another curious thought runs through his mind, his hand automatically reaching for the constant stream of pressured water, blinking when the hot water sprays his fingers. Impossible. Not even Pacifica has something as grand as this. With a smirk, he watches the tub fill, shedding his clothes at the same time, tossing the rags into the corner. 

Once the bath is full, he turns the water off, climbing into the water, a squeak escaping him when his feet touches the water. It’s followed by a laugh as he slides in, finding out that he can stretch his legs inside comfortably. Something catches his eye off to the side and he turns his head, eyebrows raising at the display of various vials of colourful oils next to the tub. He takes them one by one, smelling them carefully. None are too bad except for one with a slight green tint that makes him cough and hack up, forcing him to set it aside and cover his mouth.  
The coughing doesn’t subside for quite a while and when it does, he feels exhausted and dizzy. Deciding to ignore that one, he takes one that smells vaguely like sage and citruses, pouring some into the bath, stirring the water with his hands.

Set on making the most out of it this, he covers his nose and closes his eyes, sliding underneath the water’s surface, rubbing at his filthy hair with his free hand, trying to pull at the tangles with the limited amount of air he has. At one point he has to resurface and repeat the steps several times until his hair is finally thoroughly cleaned. 

The water is already gaining a brown tint and he decided that it’s about time that he pulls the plug out. With fascination, he watches as the water forms a whirlpool before disappearing down the drain. He rinses the tub after, filling it up once again with clean water, using the same oil as before, but this time letting himself relax in the pleasantly warm water.

It’s hard to not fall asleep then and there but he manages, pinching his thigh to wake up from the drowsy state he is in, closely following up on the action with vicious scrubbing of his skin, wanting to get all of the dirt track off his skin so he could look at least moderately presentable in Cosmos’ presence. That brings up a question - is he alone here or are there also other servants?

Thoughts aside, he manages to scrub off all the layers of dirt, giving himself one final wash, draining the water quickly. He gets out of the tub, grabbing one of the provided white towels, dabbing the fabric over his skin carefully so he wouldn’t accidentally make it dirty if there is any remaining dirt on his body. When he pulls it away, his face scrunches up at the fact that the towel is slightly stained brown anyway.

Sighing, he quickly ruffles his hair with it and then drops the towel, hanging it over the side of the tub. A quick glance at the clothes later, he finds himself standing in front of a tall mirror, fixing himself in his new attire. It looks very nice and while looking at his face, he can’t tear his gaze off himself - chocolate brown curls go about their way naturally, slightly messy but curling back into a halo that frames his face, faces no longer stained with dirt but instead coloured a healthy red. 

He smiles at his reflection, reaching up to touch his face and pinch his cheeks multiple times to make sure this isn’t a dream. No. It’s completely real and now he is living the life he has never even dreamed of. It fills him with a certain feeling of safety - he no longer has the need to worry about his future, especially what concerns work, taxes, house and similar. Yet what is lacking is a certain feeling of fulfilment, the satisfaction accomplishments bring. True, he could technically be considering this an accomplishment as well but that’s not the same!

With a brisk jolt, he turns on his heels, his feet making soft sounds as he exits the bathroom. There is something on the bed amidst the golden sheets which are not neatly made. Mason approaches the bed, taking the card like it’s a doll made out of porcelain, lips moving with the text written on the undoubtedly expensive paper: 

“Come to the dining room.”

Turning towards the previously locked door, he clicks his tongue and sets the card, barely able to register that his old clothes are gone without a trace. His heart is hammering in his chest as he reaches for the knob, trying it only to find it surprisingly unlocked.  
He opens both of the door’s wings wide, glancing at the empty corridor in front of him, seeming to go on forever. His curiosity gets the best of him and he starts down the hall, turning to the left at the end of it. 

Yet, that only seems to draw him deeper into the maze that is the house of Cosmos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a kudos and comment!  
> [Find me on Tumblr here if you have any questions or ideas! ](http://twinkletits-jr.tumblr.com)


	4. Those who ask get answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have a seat, Mason.”
> 
> He has never expected anything from Cosmos. What he got was a little too much. Was it good, or was it bad? You tell me.  
> Eloquent in his speech, the God's tongue and words laced with gold, skilled enough to hide the venom and ill intentions behind. But Mason is the descendant of someone great and on his way to become even greater. He could be the Sun himself if he had the chance.

Minutes pass and he still hasn’t made any progress whatsoever. By now, this is getting ridiculous. He is quite sure that this is already the fourth time he has passed a particularly gruesome bust of a man writhing in silent agony. Whoever has designed the place doesn’t really know much about interior design.

Tearing his gaze away, his eyes catch a sight of a young man dressed in a similar fashion, making his way down the adjacent hallway. He swears that it wasn’t there before.  
As quickly as he can, he runs after the man, footsteps echoing on the tiles, and he soon finds himself out of breath. 

“Please, wait!” He slows down once he nears the man who stops and turns to look at him curiously. Pale blue eyes squint at Mason’s figure, but he doesn’t say a word, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Can you please help me? I think I got lost. Do you know how I can get to the dining room?”

The man doesn’t say anything in return, but he does raise his hand, pointing at the staircase behind them, which is incidentally in the same direction from which he came. He turns to thank the mysterious man, but he is already gone, disappearing behind yet another corner.  
Racing down the hall and over to the staircase, he descends it messily, almost tripping over his own feet. Again.

From there, the dining room is not so hard to spot. The doorway is open, putting a long table with an abundance of various meals on display. He steps in, eyes falling on the magnificent God’s presence as he sits at the head of the table, black hands set on the table, claws crossed.

“Have a seat, Mason.”

The words seem foreign, the voice distant, in his head but he nods, sitting on the single chair on the other end of the table and opposite of the God. He bites his lip, looking at the amounts of food that are piled up in front of him. He’s never seen so many kinds - he doesn’t even recognise most of them.

“You can eat, you don’t have to wait for my permission.”

Without any more thoughts, he digs into the food, careful not to eat too much, taking bits from everything. Rich meats, fresh fruits, sweet desserts. Anything he could only dream of until now. Oh, Mabel would love these, so would mom and dad, maybe even Stan would drop his grumpy attitude for a piece of a good steak. The thought brings back memories which quickly turn into small hints of worry and anxiety. What is going to happen to the rest of his family? Will they be able to survive? And how about Mabel? Does Minerva treat her well? And if yes, will she continue? Technically, she should, but one can never be too sure.

He swallows the food in his mouth, quickly finishing what is left on his plate. The thoughts made all of his remaining appetite disappear. He takes the napkin next to his plate, wiping his mouth politely.

“I expected you to do more damage than that.” The God remarks as a matter of fact, leaning back in his seat. It’s scary how someone without a head, mouth and possibly no real vocal cords, can still speak normally. It’s overwhelming when you don’t know where the voice is coming from. On top of that, there is no face Mason could read expressions from. Nothing. Nada. And it’s terrifying. 

“I am not as hungry. I...if it were possible, could I take some with me to my room later?” Mason asks carefully, tiptoeing around each word, not wanting to insult the God or say something wrong. Luckily, Cosmos seems to be a pretty laid back guy. Well, no wonder why. He probably knows what’s on Dipper’s mind.

“Of course. You can take one of the silver trays and pile up whatever you want. The food doesn’t get bad here. Matter is created out of thin air, particles that give it it’s solid shape can stay put. Oh, and before you ask, laws of physics do not apply here. At least the usual ones. My laws, though? That’s all you need to know. Be careful about the gravity. It can...fall sometimes.”

There is a silent chuckle resonating around the room, undoubtedly belonging to Cosmos, who finds his own joke, derived from the town’s name, funny. And while the human doesn’t as much, he still gives a small polite smile as he pushes himself off the chair, grabbing an empty silver tray from the side, carefully plucking up various edible contents from the table, placing them down neatly on the tray. 

“There. Thank you for the dinner, by the way.”  
“No need to. The food will be present here at all times, so just come and go as you please. Though I might invite you for private dining as well. After all, you are to be my student. We have to get to know each other. While keeping it professional, of course.”

Mason makes a face at that but doesn’t say anything at all, simply watching the God as he raises from his seat and beckons his apprentice to follow him out of the newly formed door. Scrunching his face, he follows, trying to look up at the God’s face, but all that he sees is a flaming orb without not borders at all.

“Can I ask you something?” He can hear himself ask before he can stop it from slipping past his lips. The God doesn’t seem to be phased by that at all, placing a hand on the small boy’s shoulder, steering him out of the room.

“Sure. I’m all-knowing, after all! Feel free to ask whatever you want, but I don’t guarantee that I am going to give you a straight answer. Or any kind of an answer at all. Some things are better left unsaid.”

“I completely agree with that..” he pauses, looking around as they walk. And yes, he just definitely saw a whole wall disappear.  
“I have two questions. One, why is your head a flaming orb, and second, the corridors change, right? How am I supposed to navigate them?”

The answer he gets is surprising, but not completely unforeseen. The God laughs at him. He laughs and laughs until his laugh sounds like the laugh of a maniac, taking a whole lot to calm down.

“Mason Pines, you really are something! Here I was expecting you to go with your best shot! ‘Oh, Cosmos, what’s the meaning of life?’ For example. But no, you ask me why is my head a flaming orb. Well and why not? Do I have the reason to not put the Sun as my face? Because I am not hearing any protests. As for your second question, they do. And if you are truly worthy, you will have to find on your own. I’ll be generous and help - there are 13 patterns.”

In return, the boy frowns, not looking any pleased with the answer. It seems like he is never going to get straight answers from the God and he might as well get used to it.

“Alright then...that..didn’t answer at all, but I suppose that’s exactly your catch, right? You are trying to pressure me and push me in the right direction, but you are never actually going to teach me anything, right? I have to find out all the things on my own..” 

Sighing, he follows the God the rest of the way into a small comfortable saloon. Cosmos waves his hand dismissively, gesturing at one of the seats. He himself sits into the bigger cushioned one, crossing his legs delicately. Mason takes a seat in the smaller one, facing the God.

“Now it’s my turn to ask. And I want straightforward and clear answers, got it?” He gives the human a while to comprehend before resting his hands on the armrests and continuing:  
“Why did you chose me? I understand that you thrive for answers, but even someone like you must know that the universal knowledge is nothing that can be toyed with. You don’t choose it without sacrificing something in return. Knowledge is dangerous, eye-opening, but lethal. Why would you willingly toss yourself into the bottomless abyss if you knew there is no way out?”

“As you yourself put it ‘and why not?’ “ Mason makes himself comfortable in the chair, worming into the thick cushions.  
“Sacrifices must be made if you want to progress, right? And I, unwillingly, sacrificed the life with my family so I could be violently tossed into, as you put it, ‘the bottomless abyss of knowledge’ with minimal hope. But that hope still exists, you know? I still have a chance that I will be able to utilise that knowledge I learn along the way and grapple out of that abyss. At least logically. Technically nothing is endless? Things just warp into themselves to seem that way. You just go back and forth and find yourself in the same spot…” he shrugs, looking around the room with mild interest, but his eyes always fall on the God’s illuminated features. 

There is a silence for a while before the God speaks again, snapping his fingers to summon a servant with a tray with a simple tea set on it. The girl sets it down and pours them each a glass, leaving the room silently.

“Your name.” Cosmos suddenly says, picking up his cup. Mason blinks, raising his eyebrows.  
“Mason Pin-”  
“I don’t like it. Change it.”

It’s clear and straightforward. There is no sugarcoating it, it seems. It takes him by surprise, forcing him to look away, eyes falling on the cup. He picks it up, looking at the liquid. Well, it’s actually his reflection that he is looking at. From under his bangs, he can just barely see the handle of the Big Dipper birthmark on his forehead. It’s set then.  
He takes a small, but long sip from his tea, running his tongue over his teeth after, gaining all the courage he can. Then he raises his gaze up to the God’s face, staring at the place where his eyes should be. No matter how much it hurts his eyes.

“Call me Dipper,” he pauses, smirking,” how about you? I don’t like your name either. The Universe? Unlike you, the universe is pretty great. Wouldn’t want to put shame to it. Change it.”

He feels pretty smug about the remark for about 0.2 seconds. Then he remembers that he is in the presence of an all powerful God. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea.

“Good one, good one,” the God laughs, tilting his head as he kicks the rest of tea into himself, licking his lips.  
“I will have to give you that. You are braver than you look, Dipper...oh, I like how that sounds!” He gets sidetracked again, pouring himself another cup. Mason-- no, Dipper squints, not sure how the tea even got into him without any mouth. He’ll have to pay close attention. The God pours the cup full, adding just about all the sugar from the bowl into the tea, stirring it.

“Call me William. Or Bill. That’s more familiar and a name from this region, right?” Not even waiting for Dipper’s reply, he nods to himself with a small exclamation of ‘Great!’ before drinking his tea again.

This time around, Dipper pays close attention to the cup, frowning as a part of it seems to disappear in the flames. But he sees it. A small, mouth-like slit in which the tea flows. Okay, that’s weird...definitely not normal. But what about this place is?

“Alright….Bill,” he tests how the name sounds on his tongue. Not foreign, but not familiar either. It’s perfect.  
“I am feeling a little bit tired after the tea, so I’ll go to sleep...we can start with the studying tomorrow. Just...tell me when and where, okay?”

“Duly noted. Now run along before you fall asleep on me. I can see our eyes closing from here,” he waves his hand and the empty dishes disappear. Dipper gets up and bows his head a little, wishing him a silent ‘good night’ while doubting that this man sleeps at all. Probably not.

He navigates out of the room, eyes already closing as he tries to remember the way from which he originally came from, but the moving walls confuse him even more. There is no logical sequence to their movements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are highly welcome. So is critique.


	5. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up confused, Dipper has an inner crisis to solve and an important lesson with Bill to survive.  
> Keen on making his little apprentice happy, the God shows him a secret but what Dipper finds inside is more than he could ever hope for. He just has to be careful about keeping it out of the sight.

Waking up is difficult. 

Opening your eyes forcefully as they are still glued together? Even more difficult.  
Rolling on your side? Surprisingly easy. 

Dipper’s face comes to contact with his warm pillow and he groans silently, yawing into the soft material beneath his face. He doesn’t want to get up, though remembering the reality, he gently pushes himself to sit up. His eyes are still half-way closed and dirty, but he will have to take care of that once he manages to get up. 

Finding his balance is easier than it looks and although he wobbles a little, he finds himself growing steadier on his bare feet, leaving the comfort of the bed behind, slowly, but steadily making his way over to the bathroom. The sink is immediately claimed by his small hands, fingers fiddling with the golden faucets.

It’s a while before he manages to open the one with cold water, cupping his hands together under the steady stream. He brings them up to his face, washing it quickly, making sure to pay extra attention to his eyes to clean them properly. He then turns the water off, running a wet hand through his hair, slicking it back just a little to reveal his birthmark. With a frown, he pats his bangs back down, turning around to use the suspiciously looking toilet. Needless to say that it will take a while to get used to that contraption.

His clothes from yesterday are now crumpled, making him look fairly disheveled. He decides to keep the pants on, only changing his shirt, this time into a white button-up with long sleeves that fit perfectly over his wrists, making him look elegant yet smart at the same time.  
Once he is satisfied, he walks over to the heavy desk, surprised to find his bag sitting there along with his hunting knife and new journal. 

Speaking of surprising placements, he has absolutely no idea how he got back to his room. He remembers walking down the halls and being lost. He also remembers sitting down at one point and leaning against a wall. But nothing more. Maybe he somehow got back without having the memory of it? Maybe.

He pulls the equally heavy and cushioned chair out a little, plopping down on it with the smallest hint of a sigh. The bag in front of him is still untouched, so he decides to change that, carefully unpacking what little belongings he has, setting them out on the table. The bag gets thrown under the table as he starts organising his things.

The journal goes to the right side of the table along with some of his old notes, written upon crumbling paper. Above, he places a small wooden box with dry charcoal he often uses for drawing, but for now, it lies forgotten. Then he grabs an old rusty compass, posing it next to the wooden box, making sure it lies straight and in a perfect place. Next is a small wooden ruler he made last summer, fitting it perfectly next to his notes. And last but not least, a small knit pouch with two glass marbles that he cherishes deeply for they were a gift from his sister. He opens the first drawer, gently placing the pouch down in it.

Once everything is in its place, he looks over the painfully empty desk surface, scratching at his cheek when a sudden realisation hits him. He has no ink. Nor a quill. Fuck. He can only go ask Bill for some and hope that writing supplies are something that is provided without a question.

Speaking of the God, Dipper should probably go have breakfast before going to speak to him. If he finds him, that is. But from previous experience, he knows that it will be Bill who is going to find him first. 

With a defeated sigh, he pushes himself off the chair, turning towards the door. He can’t put this off any longer, huh?

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If it’s been minutes, if hours, Dipper has no idea. The endless maze warps and changes in front of his eyes, steadily, a shift happening every 5 minutes. Actually, it’s more of 4.5 minutes, but it’s easier to count with five. That means all 13 combinations are switched once an hour. He should really mark it down once he has the supplies and time, even if time seems to be a mere concept here. It doesn’t exist. It doesn’t flow. 

He hasn’t seen a single clock, a single piece of clockwork. And no timepieces mean no useless measures of a nonexistent concept of flow within a closed off dimension like this.  
To think of it, he isn’t even sure if the scenery outside his balcony door changed. Wait, he has a balcony? When did that happen? He has always wanted one, but he is pretty sure that when he came here, the window definitely wasn’t big enough to be a balcony.

Those thoughts aside, it takes ages for him to find the correct staircase. From there, the dining room is easy to find. Upon entering, he spots the same amount of food left on the table, along with his forgotten tray from yesterday, the food still looking fresh and untouched. Truly, time doesn’t seem to be working well here.

He sits down, grabbing a slice of bread, slathering jam over it in hearty amount now that he knows that he can be greedy to his heart’s content.

After all these years, he thinks as he chews, it is strange to eat all alone with no one else in the room. Even more when he realises that he is in a house as big as the entire village, almost all alone with an omniscient God and a couple of servants. 

Swallowing the bread, he looks around to make sure that he is indeed all alone before surveying the table once again, eyes widening when he spots a bowl full of rich brown liquid. Curiously, he dips a finger in, bringing it to his lips. The flavour basically explodes on his tongue and he makes a small sound of delight when he recognises it. 

Chocolate.

Something he has tasted once or twice in his life when Pacifica was feeling all too generous. Those are serious occasions. Well, were. And now it looks like he can enjoy the luxury here at any time he desires. Or, well, at any time he will manage to find the dining room.

He pulls the previously filled tray closer and loads the bowl on it, thinking for a while before grabbing a whole plate of simple wheat crackers. To top it all off he also gets himself a cup of tea, shuffling out of the newly formed door. If he has been counting correctly, these will lead him to the saloon he was in previously.

And, true to his words, he winds up in the circular room, knitting his eyebrows together when he sees it’s occupied by the God who is currently floating above the couch, suspended mid-air, with his legs closed and hands on his knees, meditating in complete silence.  
Trying to be as quiet as possible, Dipper creeps to the table, setting his tray down carefully.

“Ah, I see you are awake.”

The closeness sends shivers down the human’s spine and he curses quietly under his breath when he almost drops what he is holding. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want to waste away the time by lazing around. You said you would teach me, so here I am…” he shuffles around awkwardly, seating himself on the cushiony rest opposite of the God, watching as he unfolds his long black legs, easily able to stand at this height. 

“Precisely. Where do you want to start? Or, what do you want to learn? I am the answer to all your questions, kid.”

“How about the universe? Since, you know, you are supposed to represent that and it’s basically the biggest concept there is….” Dipper bites on his lip, taking a cracker and drenching it in chocolate.

“Well if you say so…” Bill shrugs and slowly opens his arms, the entire room darkening until Dipper can’t see anything. Then there is light and small speckles of colours begin to appear, some small, some large. Those form stars, constellations, galaxies, planets. And then they shift and move, small moons orbiting planets, orbiting suns. Everything swims around him. 

He almost forgets to close his mouth in pure fascination. His hands move on their own accord and he reaches up, trying to touch everything. Anything he can get his hands on.  
So he reaches out more gently grabbing a star that floats over to him, cupping it in his hands to look at it properly. It’s blue, luminous and warm in his hands. Like his own personal hand-warmer.

“Ah, Zeta Puppis, or shortly, Naos. I see you took a liking to it. Or should I say it took a liking to you?” Bill chuckles from where he is standing, his voice resonating through the room.

“If that’s supposed to be a joke, it’s not very funny. Maybe if it were delivered better, I would have given enough care to at least fake a laugh.”

“No need to get all ‘salty’, as you people would say. It wasn’t meant to be a joke at all but your little head can’t seem to wrap around the idea yet. I’ll tell you what. You can have it,” he nods his head at the star in Dipper’s hands,” I was originally going to give you the Big Dipper, but I see that you already have that one.”

Feeling self-conscious at the remark, Dipper reaches up to fix his bangs to cover all of the birthmark properly. He doesn’t need someone who’s supposed to be an important entity making fun of him. He’s not going down the same road again.

“Whatever,” he only scoffs in response, letting the star hover above the desk, casting a blue light on the wood’s surface.  
“You are supposed to teach me, so go ahead, I want to learn!”

Bill smirks at his eagerness. This one is the one. Almost the same as Sixer…..but yet still different. Younger and frail. Weak. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Never in his life has Dipper written so much new information.

Bill has provided him with many papers, ink and dip pens as he needs. They are all now scattered over the coffee table as Bill shows him all there is, explaining everything in vivid detail while still managing to keep it interesting (lax and unprofessional attitude aside, of course).

He writes down all the things he can manage to in such short time since Bill rarely stops to let him finish his writing. Luckily, he plans on rewriting all of these neatly into his new journal. Maybe if he asks, Bill can even provide him with ink of other colours.  
All this time, the universe expands around them while Naos serves as a little table light to him so he can see what he actually writes.

It feels like hours until Bill finally ends the lecture, letting the universe’s hologram disappear. For Dipper, it’s about time since his hands are killing him from all the work he’s done. When Bill notices, he only chuckles and shakes his head.

“Eat something kid. Clean your hands after and then I’ll show you how to grant access to the library, okay?” The God voices, a small hum to his voice as he reaches over, long, bony fingers stealing a cracker, dipping it into the chocolate, mimicking Dipper’s previous actions. And then he eats it. Well, actually, he dissolves it into particles and absorbs it. That’s something that Dipper notes from up-close.

But he listens, eating the chocolate covered crackers while he is free to do so. He doesn’t manage to eat a lot, but it’s enough to satisfy his stomach. Then he wipes his hands into his pants, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He is just too excited to see the library to even think about what he is doing.

“Done!” He announces to Bill, quickly stacking all his papers, blank and filled separately, gathering them up into his arms along with his newly acquired writing utensils, ready to follow Bill.

“Alright. Come,” the God motions his hand at Dipper to follow, taking long steps towards the blank wall to the left of the saloon.  
“This right here is the entrance. It’s a little tricky to find the knob, but I am sure you can manage. It’s like a puzzle. For newborns.”

With a small wave of his hand, Bill causes the things in Dipper’s hands float up and stay in the air, balanced perfectly. The young male gives him a questioning look.

“You will need both hands to open it, so go ahead.”

Dipper sighs and places his hands on the wall, feeling it up with the tips of his fingers, looking for ridges or something similar. He has to move from side to side, up and down, change angles to see if there is anything. At one point, he finds a thin golden line, gracing it with his index finger until it creates an arch, that transcends into another one and finally ends up on the floor. That’s the door. Now the knob should be easy to find.

Obviously, the theory is not true as it seemed to be. The knob is nowhere to be found on either side. So he tries pushing. Nothing. No response at all. Trying to pry hints out of the man next to him is pretty much useless too. It only results in a few shrugs.

But then…..he finds it. A small 1x1 inch square. He pushes it in with his index finger, jumping back as mechanisms whir, getting to work. A knob pops out, followed by carved lines along the edge of the door. And then it clicks open.

Dipper looks back at Bill before pulling the door open gently, basically throwing himself into the large room. Once again, it’s circular and goes down several levels. In the middle is a railing-protected hole that allows people look down at the lower levels.  
And yet this is it. The literary canon of the human race. Knowledge locked in numerous books just waiting to be read and learnt. 

Boy, he is not sleeping tonight.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The desk in his room is piled high with books of all kinds, ranging from simple language thesauri through encyclopedias of mythological fauna to books containing difficult ciphers.  
As he goes, he marks down things that are important or just interesting, slowly filling his journal bit by bit, keeping it neat and organised, not forgetting to supply it with various graphs and sketches.

Dip pens prove to be much better than quills - they are easier to use and won’t get used up or broken as easily. Besides, he was given many different kinds to work with and keeps them ordered according to the thickness of their tip. 

One of the thinner ones with silver nib gets dipped into black ink, gently gliding over the journal’s pages as he copies down an easy cipher, being careful not to make any mistakes.  
The cipher consists of strange stick characters and overall seems familiar to him. He has the feeling he has seen it somewhere before. Maybe it was in one of the books?

So he looks through them again, his eyes falling on an old worn red book on the very bottom of the pile. He picks it up and leans back in his chair, opening it on a random page. It seems to be a chronologically ordered sequence of events, he figures out as he flicks through the rest of the pages, eventually finding what he was looking for. Numerous messily scribbled ciphers. Many of them written in huge chunks or just little notes. On closer notice after looking over the mysterious journal more carefully, he finds out the ciphers scattered all over the pages.

There is a strange sense of deja vú at the back of his head when he opens one page in particular, eyes falling on an all too familiar jumble of nonsensical letters. 

WUXVW QR RQH. 

He has seen it before. The text adorns the worn wooden plank nailed above the ‘secret door’ that everyone, mostly Stan, refuses to acknowledge. No one, but them, knows what lies behind them but since everyone is so avoidant of the topic, it must be something big. And Dipper’s dead-set on figuring it out.

Grabbing the book about ciphers again, he finds those that match and starts working on decrypting the messages.  
At first, it proves to be a difficult task. Progress is made slowly. Very slowly. It takes a good deal of time and concentration to remember all the shifts and corresponding letters but he is slowly getting the hang of it, more or less translating the secret messages with the knowledge he has acquired in the past hours.

Being lost in the books costs him a lot of nonexistent time. If it weren’t for his eyes drooping, he would be sitting there for another few hours. But his body wins, so he tidies everything up, taking the old journal, stuffing it under his mattress. There is something telling him that he shouldn’t let Bill know he has this.

He takes the author’s advice to heart.

Trust no one.


	6. The Garden of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard keeping something a secret from the omniscient being that Bill is but Dipper still tries.  
> While he explores and acquaints himself with the local flora, Bill reminiscences about old times. Just then a new character finds a way how to steal all of Bill's attention away from the past.

Keeping the journal a secret turns out to be a task even harder than Dipper originally anticipated it to be. As days pass, he notices the God lurk near him more often than not. It quickly grows from ‘he might just be checking on me’ to a full on paranoid ‘he knows’.

In fact, it grows so much that he catches himself glaring at the servants when they come to clean his room and wash his clothes. Luckily, he quickly catches himself, continuing with his tasks. And it happens several times a day.

The lessons are always some kind of a distraction. He doesn’t have to worry about his paranoia since it’s completely forgotten in the heat of the moment. Bill shows him many things, teaches him new and old things, takes him on a visual tour throughout many places beyond the mountains of Gravity Falls. He is surprised that many settlements are formed into big cities and suddenly, all the luxuries he has seen so far seem like such a common thing. 

Over the wall, it’s like a whole different world. It mesmerises Dipper and he demands to see more, no matter if natural beauty or man-made, everything seems to take his breath away.   
But then he remembers that he cannot see it for real. He can only watch from his spot on the couch, but he will never get to be physically there. And that makes him kind of sad.

“If it makes you feel better, there is a garden here. And a forest, but don’t go there. It’s dangerous for a little human like you. The garden is accessible, though. You just need to figure out how to get there.”

Since it sounds promising, Dipper decides to give it a try and after the lesson, he pulls out his notes on the changes of the house. He has already most of the patterns figured out, so he could technically wait for them to change into the correct one but that might take forever, so in the meantime, he sets out to find out about the others. They provide the kind of logical puzzle that Dipper loves, so there is no extra issue in spending some more time over a few patterns.

According to one of the books he found before, the castle has only two entrances: a large front door and a smaller back one. Right there on the page, it says that the garden should be right out of the back door. But he would have to know the location first. Or at least general direction.

Having no other choice, after he finishes the patterning, he wanders around the halls, looking for the servants. Perhaps one of them could point him the way he has to go, even if it meant having to navigate through the entire maze of a house.  
This time, luck turns to be on his side and he runs into the same boy with red hair that comes to tidy his room up in the evening.

“Hey, Phoenix, can you point me towards the back door? I would like to go to the garden..” Dipper voices in a casual tone, now knowing well that Bill has forbidden all the servants to speak to him directly. For what reason, he doesn’t know.  
It takes a while for Phoenix to respond, but when he does, he points at the newly opened wall behind Dipper. Yet, before Dipper can walk away, the servant grabs his elbow, pulling him back, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t go inside any of the rooms you’ll see. Just look for the grand golden door. Open only that one.”

There is something in the way he says it that makes Dipper freeze and then nod, hurrying away.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

One door, two doors, three doors….five doors...fifteen doors….twenty-seven doors…..forty-three doors….. the list goes on and the temptation to open at least one is strong. It’s like the doors are calling his name and inviting him in to take a peek and uncover the secrets lying beneath.

And yet, he doesn’t.

He remembers what Phoenix told him, what he warned him about beforehand. Shaking his head he continues onward, trying to be fast on his feet and to get out of the place as soon as he can without doing anything rash that he would regret.

From there, it’s easy to find the door. They are heavy and tall, made out of solid gold with a complex design carved into its wings. He grabs the knob and pulls, struggling to open the door with his frail arms. He really needs to do some work around here. Once the door is opened enough for him to fit, he slips out, instantly covering his eyes with his hand to shield them from the bright light. But there is none. 

The sky is pleasantly clouded, still bearing the pastel colour of the day. It’s really pretty how the pinks, purples, and blues mix together. And that’s just one part. He can easily see the nearby stars and planets just by naked eye, something that has not yet witnessed back in Gravity Falls. It’s something truly unique and perhaps he could come back later to draw it or possibly paint it if Bill provides supplies. 

Speaking of drawing, it’s yet another skill he would like to develop while being here and he is pretty sure that there are some books about that around here in the library too. He just has to find them and do something with them, other than just simply read them. He can do that with many other books. Clutching his journal just a little tighter, he finally looks away from the sky to observe the garden around him.

From where he stands, a path of flat, polished stones forms a guide through the garden, undoubtedly circling around it. What is not stone is grass. Beautiful radiant shade of green and soft like a carpet. It also tickles when he sets his feet on it, but he doesn't care, carefully walking over the green rug, looking like he’s a ropewalker trying to keep balance.

Overall, the garden is simply breathtaking. In its center stands a stone fountain with what looks like Bill’s statue in the middle, producing water from its hands. It funny how self-absorbed one person can be. Not even the Northwests are such a terrible family when push comes to shove but then again, they are only human and Cosmos is a God. A God that often sucks at his job but a God nonetheless.

He tells himself that he will draw this thing too. Not only just to tickle Bill’s ego but also because other than that, the fountain is a lovely sight. 

Walking past it, he notices some strange plants by the hedges growing along the garden’s borders, trusting his instinct to approach them slowly. There is a slight feeling of dread in his gut as he comes no less than five feet to them. As if sensing his presence, the plants open one by one, all revealing what looks like an eyeball with a slit running down in the middle instead of blooming flowers. 

And all of these plants are watching him. 

It’s creepy and unsettling and the feeling just gets stronger once he sees them blinking slowly one by one in a perfect sequence. Either Bill taught them that or there is some weird shit going on in this place. And yet he decides to give it a couple more chances since the flora here seems so much different than what he’s seen at home. 

It takes him a couple of hours to see everything the garden has to offer. 

During the few hours, he stumbles across a well-kept pond with a bridge stretching across it. He stops in the middle of said bridge, leaning over the railing to gaze into the clear turquoise water. From where he stands, he can see how far down the stems of water lilies go, he can see all the colourful fish and small harmless sharks swim around in it. It looks tempting and if he wasn’t so scared of what kind of an abomination Bill may have hidden here, perhaps an aquatic monster that is dormant deep down in the darker water, he would probably attempt to swim in it. If.

Even though he has learnt to expect the unexpected in this place, after he leaves the pond, he is caught in another unfortunate event. Literally. After all, he cannot expect something he wouldn’t have probably dreamt of in his weirdest dreams, so when he suddenly trips and comes face-to-face with grass, he has half a mind to just scream with frustration, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tries to keep calm and be collected about the entire occurrence, turning his head to see just what the fuck did he trip over. 

Turns out that whatever it is that he has previously brushed off as simple flowers is currently grabbing at his bare feet, ankles, and pants. These are even weirder than the eyeballs. From far they look like fuzzy, dried stems with dried and shriveled flowers on top of them. From retrospect, he should have known that things are not what they seem. Flowers are not flowers at all. Instead, they are shaped like small hands with claws, actually similar to chicken feet, that open up to reveal several sets of tiny needle teeth. 

He is up and gone faster than he ever thought he was capable of.

He manages to stumble through a few other incidents as well, namely: almost being attacked by one of the hedges that tried to pull him in and suffocate him, stepping on a vine-like plant with long, needle-like orange thorns, which resulted in him getting hurt and bleeding all over the grass - and then it went downhill. The smell of blood triggered about a dozen of brightly coloured hummingbirds. When Dipper saw them all targeting him and swooping down on him, he thought he was done for, covering his face and hoping for the worst. Yet, the exact opposite happened. 

The hummingbirds all landed on him, clinging to his clothes and skin, making silent ambient noises. Two of them make his hair their new home and while he tries to shake them off, several more join in. The last few seem to fuss and argue while hovering over his hurt foot. It’s quite surreal so he just gives in and wobbles over to the pond again, sitting down on the side of it so he can cup some water in his hands and clean the injury, but when he does, one of the fishes latches onto his hand with tiny teeth, trying to take a bite of him.

Luckily, some of the hummingbirds seem smart enough to leave the safety of Dipper’s hair, attacking the fish with a few quick swoops and pecks, making it lose grip on the human’s hand and swim away in defeat. The ones that were previously fussing over his foot come closer to it. Two of them seem to collect his blood with their little tongues, making Dipper squeal quietly.

“Hey, that tickles!” He huffs, kicking his leg a little to make them back away. The last of the three hovers over the water, making sure that the coast is clear before gently chirping at him to dip his foot in, so he does. The water is pleasantly cool on his foot, soothing the injury the thorns left in his skin and flesh. After a while, the bird chirps again, flying up to rest on Dipper’s knee as the boy pulls his foot up, brows furrowing as he grabs his foot to look at the injury. 

And surely enough, it is gone. Traces of blood, scars, the pain. All are gone. He then looks at his hand where the fish bit him, also finding no marks. Huh.

“Okay, that’s actually really cool….” he looks his skin over again, chuckling quietly. He will be back later to collect the water. For now, he only picks the bird up, placing it on his shoulder so he can walk over to a lonely stone bench near the stone slabs, sitting down to rest for a while, unaware that he is still being watched. 

And this time, not by the plants.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clawed, black hands curl around the base of an equally black wooden cane, invisible eyes watching the boy in the garden run about and experience its wonders and overcome the obstacles within. It’s amusing to watch him figure things out on his own. His enthusiasm? Silly, naive but at the same time raw and pure. There is something within that human.

Sure, he used to say the same thing about Stanford but he was never one of raw untouched power. Yes, he was ambitious and aspired to do great things yet at the same time there are a few minor setbacks when it comes to the old geezer. 

He refused to obey the laws of physics Bill made for himself in his own house and rather tried to make his own, what he considered to be a ‘great deal with a price’. One thing led to another, new and old laws didn’t work together. While Ford had some great ideas, he was lazy to develop them to the very last detail. He cannot say he didn’t think of the consequences but he was in too much of a rush.

He would hoard old mechanism parts to work on something new and unheard of. He’s a Pines after all and nothing could make him abandon his family. Nothing could truly break him. Unless the betrayal came from within. 

He was too proud. 

A loner. 

Paranoid.

But still, somewhere deep he wouldn’t abandon the thought of his family. And he naively believed that Bill will be there to do all the work for him. The God wouldn’t have that. Ford’s greatest invention, a lifetime success, a piece of magically enchanted machinery that would change it all. 

Including the six-fingered man’s fate.

And on the other hand, there is Dipper. Young, naive, curious, easily manipulated. Unlike Ford, Dipper isn’t yet aware of the dangers of the real world. He hasn’t seen all that there is. He’s pure and clean. Within him resides the power that Cosmos craves so desperately. The child was born to be a tool to be brought up, trained and then used in a war with the power that he was granted. The power that rightfully belongs to Cosmos. Or so he claims since the child carries the mark of a star.

Nonexistent lips curl back into a small snarl as another presence suddenly appears in the room, hands gripping the cane tighter before relaxing, letting out a small sigh. The person moves, walking closer, bare feet echoing on the stone floor.

“Stalking your protegees again, brother mine?” The voice of Atomos asks as its owner walks closer, placing a hand on the small of Bill’s back. The gesture does soothe him, but the nickname doesn’t do it any justice.

“You should stop calling me your brother when you know it’s not true - we are not related. And no. I wouldn't call it stalking. I am just making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“That’s true but it does the trick for humans,” Atomos hums in a calm demeanour, sliding his hand over Bill’s sides, wrapping them around his middle. Their bodies end up pressed together, pale hands and pale robes contrasting against dark skin and dark robes, fingers gripping the silk gently.

“Everything does. You just have to make it …”  
“...believable enough?” The sky God interrupts with a small chuckle, setting his head down on Bill’s shoulder, going lax against him as he too stares out of the window at the boy sitting there.

“What are you planning to do with him?” He asks after a while, lifting his head a little so he could look at the side of the flaming orb, eyes searching for the outline of the pretty face he’s grown so attached to.

“Tad, Tad, Tad. Always asking the most ridiculous of questions. I am not going to share my secret with you. Yet. I don’t want to spoil it but as you know me, it’s going to be grand. And we will get first row seats to it. Aren’t you excited?” Bill turns his head to look in Tad’s direction, flames slowly dissipating and vanishing, revealing the honey-glazed skin beneath. Tad only laughs and shakes his head, pulling on Bill’s robe.

“I sure am. But now, let’s forget about that boy, alright?” And there goes that devious smirk again, strong arms pulling the older God in and away as the last hints of the sky disappear from view, substituted by a starry view.

The night has never come so quickly. c;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do leave a kudos and a comment, it encourages me greatly!  
> Oh, and if someone would be interested in making art for this, I'd be more than happy, haha.


	7. One old man said....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One old man said that he who has disappeared has another one in his footsteps, and Dipper has a good idea about who that might be. But then again, can he really believe someone who is clearly insane? Turns out he can but that someone might be Bill. At least he tries to play it off. And then he fucks up. It has consequences.

Spending time in the library quickly becomes Dipper’s favourite past-time. The smell of books calms him and gives him a false feeling of security. Of course, he is aware of it. But for now, it’s the only thing he has.

Every day is spent exploring the deepest and darkest corners of the library in search of forgotten books hiding secrets from the gazes of mere mortals. Dipper knows that if he tries just a little harder, he can find something worth the days and weeks that he’s spent between countless towers of books. 

He takes his time, looking through all of them page by page to see if there's anything interesting. If not, they go back on the shelf. If yes, he stacks them off to the side. Depending on the topic they cover, so he can return to them later.

Within a few hours, he is surrounded by a vast city made out of stacks of books, many taller than himself. There is no way that he’s going to carry that all back to his room, so he simply settles for sitting down on the floor, digging through books to find something at least mildly interesting, to begin with.

He finds several books with ciphers and handwriting similar to the journal he has found previously, setting them on their own special stack. Yet there is one that catches his attention fairly quickly. A quick glance at one of the pages tells him that it’s no ordinary book but rather a spell book, the spells ranging from simple to fairly complicated ones, also including spells that do not work with magic one has inside of them but also with blood magic, necromancy and similar.

His interest is sparked instantly yet there is a problem. He has no idea if he is capable of using magic like this, less even learning it on his own. Technically, Bill could help him but as he knows the God, it won’t be a ‘help’ in the true meaning, rather just a whole lot of different riddles and hints that he is supposed to find out on his own. Trying to ask wouldn’t hurt, though, right?

So he gathers his things, book tucked under his armpit, leaving the library in a desolate state. It pains him but there is nothing he can do at the moment, eager to get to the God as soon as possible so he could start learning right away. He knows it won’t be easy. However, he is ready to do whatever he can to persuade Bill that he is worth being taught something like magic.

Speaking of magic, the topic brings back memories. When he was still a small child, he would often listen to crazy old man McGucket babble about someone he knew. Now, after all the time, he recalls the story as he exits the library, navigating the halls from memory after the eternity of being stuck here. It’s been over five months.

So he goes back to the story. 

He can still picture the day he has heard it the first time around. He was around twelve back then and his mother sent him to get some bread for lunch. Since it was the middle of January, no one was outside. Everyone was hidden in the safety of their homes. Except for Dipper and a mysterious murmuring voice. He followed the voice and found out it belongs to no one other than McGucket, curled up behind one of the brick houses of the square, knees drawn to his chest, hands clasped in front of his mouth. His warm breath like smoke, slipping from between his lips and disappearing towards the sky. The closer Dipper got, the louder the voice got, mumbling strung together into unintelligent sentences.

“Gone, gone, gone. He’s gone. Disappeared. No trace. No traces at all. It’s been forty-seven years,” the man mumbles, stopping when Dipper approaches him, turning his head towards him. In the next second, the old man springs up, grabbing Dipper’s shoulders, shaking him animatedly.

“Where is he? What have they done with him? They took him! You believe me, don’t you?! You’d know.. you are just like him. You are his sweat and blood, the same magic courses through your veins. You are next! Next, I say! One day the prophecy is going to be back. It wasn’t him, they haven’t succeeded. It’s you. It must be you. You have the stars watching over you. The All-Seeing Eye will come for you.”

After several more shakes, McGucket lets go of him and runs deeper into the alleys with mad laughter, leaving Dipper standing there, panting. If the bile slowly rising into his mouth is anything to go by, this is the kind of experience that is going to stay and scar him for the rest of the life. He never understood what any of those sentences meant.

But now, he is close to deciphering them.

The man, let’s call him Subject Of Interest Alpha (later on as Subject A for a less confusing reading experience), is someone McGucket knew and who was, allegedly, abducted by ‘them’. And that happened fifty years ago. This Subject A, as said by McGucket, is possibly related to Dipper, hence the ‘sweat and blood’ reference. That would make sense, right?

Then comes the part about magic but there is no other explanation for that. If he and Subject A are supposed to be related, maybe they share the same potential as well. As for the ‘stars watching over [him]’, right now, the could symbolise Cosmos. He does symbolise the universe, after all. And at last, the All-Seeing Eye. That’s something that he has no idea about yet. Sure, he has seen his fair share of the creepy decor in Bill’s house that involves eyes but nothing truly strikes him as ‘the one’. Maybe he hasn’t found it yet? Well, nevermind. He can think about that later. For now, he has things to do and places to be.

The salon where Bill usually meditates has become an easy place to navigate to after a few times and he can’t help it but shake his head at himself for not figuring out the hints sooner than this. 

Hideous decor always symbolises something important. Always.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bill is exactly where Dipper suspected he would be but to his surprise, this time, he is not meditating. Instead, he is chilling on the sofa with a cold drink in his hand, dressed lightly and in a disheveled fashion in nothing but a long white gown with his sleeves rolled up. The material looks like it’s made from the softest of clouds, clearly revealing the God’s collarbones.

Dipper presses the book to his chest, clearing his throat as he enters the room, seating himself in his usual chair. By now, he can easily tell when it gets a new stray thread coming from the cushions or when it moves just by the tiniest bit. He has the room completely memorised.

The God acknowledges his presence with a mere sip of his drink and the narrowing of his eyes, which still cannot be seen over the flames.  
“Yes? Do you need something?”

Placing the book on the coffee table, Dipper nods and leans forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees.  
“I do. This right here is a spellbook I found. I want you to teach me how to use magic.”

The determined look on Dipper’s face surprises Bill but he easily brushes it off. It’s all going too well and playing straight into his cards.

“Sure thing. What exactly do you want to learn? To raise the dead? To grow up a few inches? To stop sweating?“

“Yeah, kind of? That would be nice...but this time I mean real magic like it’s written here, look,” he grabs the book and turns it towards Bill, showing him the pages.  
“Elemental magic, various types of kinesis! Anything I am capable of learning! I don’t want to be forever useless and this would actually come handy in many situations!”

And before the God can reply, he adds: “You chose me to teach me, so teach me and stop complaining about it!”

That makes the God smirk and shake his head, taking the book from Dipper’s hands.  
“Oh, Dipper, Dipper, Dipper. You amuse me so. I was never going to complain. Well, maybe in a different universe but not now. I actually want to teach you. Yet, before we start, we need to test your abilities and the capability to perform magic. Not everyone has the gift, you know. Some people are born with it, some must earn it. You have a great potential but when it comes to any real skill, you are obviously lacking that. No offense.”

“None taken,” Dipper waves his head, watching as Bill flicks through the book with a mere move of his wrist. Biting his lip, he waits for something to happen. Or something to be said. It takes a good while before the book is opened on the introductory page and passed back to Dipper’s side of the table with an unspoken command to read it.

“For beginners, it’s easier to use an already existing source of magic since you are not able to use your own. Or accumulate as much on your own but that’s the same shit so we are skipping all that,” Bill flicks his wrist again and the pages of the book turn to the basics of elemental magic. 

“Obviously to perform each of these you’ll need an energy of the same source. There are several types of magic. First is Elemental and has four sub-chapters. Fire, water, earth and air-based magic. Later is Dark magic dealing with death and blood, then White magic focusing on healing and soul magic. Summoning magic has its own category but that’s way too complicated for you now.”

With a snap of his fingers, he summons a tall red candle, placing it in the empty candleholder on the coffee table, moving to the edge of his seat just as Dipper finishes reading about elemental magic.

“First up is fire magic,” he hums as the pages stop flipping and pause at a section labeled ‘Ignis’.  
“Since you’ve read up on the introduction, I trust that you know what to do, correct?”   
After a small pause and a nod from Dipper, he holds out his right hand, igniting a small fire in his palm.

“Your job is to light this candle using the fire I am providing for you. Now do it.”

Dipper sighs and glares at Bill just the slightest bit. He could bother being nicer about it but no, he just has to do things his own way. He outstretches his hand, relaxing it as he puts it near the flame so that his fingers would be near it, conducting the energy while his palm rests near the knot of the candle to release the energy.

And he tries, he focuses and does his best to transfer the warm energy tickling his fingers towards the cold candle but the more he tries, the more frustrated he becomes. And nothing happens anyway.   
With a huff he looks up at Bill, still trying to redeem himself by repeating the process. 

Still nothing.

He groans loudly and glares at the candle, simply tempted to just grab it and burn it right there on the flame in Bill’s hand. The fact that he has the feeling that Bill’s mocking him silently isn’t helping it.

“Try relaxing first instead of being deathly focused. The magic will come naturally. You are surrounded by the purest of cosmic energy, after all.”

Dipper tries taking that to heart, already doubting his abilities to do anything but maybe spark a slight something. But he wants and needs to master this, so he wants to dedicate as much time to this as possible, even if it would be more convenient to just suddenly...know it? Just have it in himself. Maybe he is putting too much hope into these things.

His hand comes forward to do the same once again but this time he simply clears his mind, imagining the candle bursting into flames from the borrowed energy, remaining calm about it up until he feels a searing warmth spread over his hand, letting out a small scream as the candle, and by extension the table, bursts into flames. The sudden ignition makes him stomp his feet and throw himself back, leading him to end up toppling backwards, knocking the chair over. He goes down with it, hitting the marble floor hard.

Somewhere above him, Bill laughs, taming the fire with a mere dismissing wave of his hand.  
“Good job! I honestly expected nothing but you surprised me. I am impressed. Even though you burnt my coffee table. Oh, well, it can be replaced later. Now, moving on! Get up from the floor, there’s no time to dawdle.”

The young brunet scoffs and pushes himself off the floor, righting his chair right back as it was before, sitting down again.

“Those were the basics of fire magic. Once you master that, you can move onto the more difficult spells that the section offers. Now the basics of water,” he makes the pages flip to another section labelled as ‘Aqua’, or water.

“Now read this while I prepare the course.”

So he reads while the God fumbles about what appears to be a bowl of water, setting it down on the churned table. He watches the scene above the book, the lines swimming in front of his eyes. Blah, blah, something about water constantly flowing, blah, blah. For some reason, he’s not paying attention to it at all.

Once Bill is done, he snaps Dipper back into reality, presenting him with the bowl.  
“Your next exercise is about the flexibility of water. You see this? Good. Now pick the water up, warp it into a bubble and hold it suspended in the air. It’s easy. Just do what you did before but try to keep it calmer this time.”

With a single roll of his eyes, Dipper does as he is told. This time, he uses both of his hands, placing them above the bowl as if he was waiting until the water rises so he can catch it.  
The same focus comes to him more naturally this time, although he has to pressure it just the slightest for it to be made easier.

There is a small period of time where nothing happens and nothing moves. Then very, very slowly, the water starts to move up. At first, it’s simple droplets and then small bubble-like shapes. With a deep breath, he imagines all of the water going up at once and re-joining the rest that is still moving around in the air.

On the other side, Bill watches with interest as the mass of water leaves the bowl, forming a semi-solid water bubble that ripples and flows within itself. Plus is, that it doesn’t drip.   
When Dipper opens his eyes, he gasps at his work and what he has managed to create. Bill finds that endearing in a way and amusing as well.

Dipper gently toys with the bubble, bringing it closer by cupping his hands together and drawing them in. Daringly, he attempts to shift the control over the water mass into his left hand. It wavers and he bites his lip hard, trying to keep it solid either way, eyes flickering over to where the shape breaks off a little, releasing two or three small drops of water that hit his palm.

“That’s already almost a whole another level,” Bill nods in approvement, eyes switching between the look of concentration and awe on Dipper’s face and the bubble above his hands.

“You know. I knew you had it in you. Never doubted you. Not even for a second.”

Just the way he says it suggests that he’s done exactly that and probably not even all that long ago. It could have been only seconds in the past. If he has to say anything about it, it’s probably going to be the fact that this is nowhere near the next ‘level’ of skill. He just knows that encouragement and bits of white lies here and there are a great way how to boost someone’s ego. It will also help in the future. He knows how much humans imp on praises. 

“This feels amazing. Are you sure that I am doing this all by myself?” Dipper suddenly asks, looking at Bill through the bubble, snickering at how it makes him appear bigger and upside down. 

“Hundred percent sure.” 

That seems to be a satisfactory answer for the young human. It makes him happy and somewhat excited about the new things he has learned. His excitement seems to turn into a weak kind of energy and travel between his body and the water. Even though it’s weak, it’s still an ambient kind of energy the water absorbs, starting to shake a little in the air.

“Um...Bill? Something’s happening.. this doesn’t look right.”

And it isn’t right at all. Suddenly, the bubble springs out of Dipper’s hands, flinging itself towards the ceiling. As quickly as it was in the air, it comes down as fast, bouncing off the table and into the wall. From there it hits the chandelier, bounces off the adjacent wall and straight into the flaming orb that is the God’s face. The bubble sizzles when it meets the fire, turns into vapour that disappears quickly.

Dipper can basically feel the glare coming from underneath the flames. It is all but directed at him.

Whoops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it takes so long but I am busy with school and life.  
> Encouragements are welcome, thank you.


	8. Basic Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questionable consequences are usually followed by questionable teaching methods. At least when it comes to Bill.

He awaited certain death. But it never came.

Dipper’s eyes are squeezed shut without him even knowing, dull teeth sunk into his bottom lip in fear of being yelled at or worse, hit. But nothing like that ever comes. Bill is still sizzling from being assaulted by a ball of water, not looking twice as pleased at him. He doesn’t even need to have facial features for Dipper to recognise his body language. 

When he is certainly sure that Bill isn’t going to murder him or hit him, he slowly opens his eyes, little by little, peeking at the God carefully. He stares into the flaming orb for a while, shying his gaze away after a few seconds.

“Uh, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to do that..” he mumbles quietly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.  
“I really need to learn how to control my magic if it’s ever supposed to be useful for me. I just...I don’t think I have all the precision needed for it yet..”

After a while, the silence grows unbearable. But then, Bill sighs and shakes his head, letting out a small but audible chuckle.

“You are hopeless, kid. Did you seriously think that you will master everything right away and not make mistakes along the way? That would be too easy. Besides, where is the fun in that? Everyone had to figure things out at one point, heck, even me, although it hurts my pride to admit that. We were all once the same. But practice makes perfect. Work hard and all that shit and it will come to you eventually.”

The monologue gives Dipper some hope and definitely raises his self-esteem by a few unimportant points. However, they will matter in the long run.

“Alright. I get it. It’s just basics anyway! I can figure the rest out myself. Can we move onto the next element now?” He asks with a small hum, already turning the pages until he’s met with a picturesque title of ‘Terra’.

Bill gets up for a second, walking over to the lit window where a porcelain pot sits, filled with black soil from which pale yellow, browning vines hang, falling over the edge and down all the way to the floor. He brings it over and sets it on the coffee table in front of Dipper, sitting down as well.

“Let me tell you, I didn’t plan this I just suck at keeping these things alive. That’s why I have a gardener,” he jokes, pushing the pot towards Dipper.

“You should try bringing it back to ‘life’ or whatever. It’s not completely dead yet.”

With a sigh, the human nods and looks at the plant. Surprisingly, he finds himself feeling empathy towards the nearly lifeless form, sharing its dread for life. If he were a plant he’d end up exactly like this. Especially under Bill’s care. Ugh.

He stretches his hands out, gently taking a hold of the brownish stalk, gently cupping in his hands as he focuses. He thinks about the leftover energy forming veins that arise from the soil and pulse through the plant like they would on a human body. It’s surprisingly easy for once and on top of that he can feel the energy buzzing pleasantly under his fingertips. With a small exhale, he smiles and finishes the spell, opening his eyes to find the plant almost fully green and ready to return back to its life cycle.

“Maybe you should make sure to water it with a small cup at least once in three days…”

Now Dipper is no gardener, nor a plant expert, but that does sound like it could work if actually carried out. If.   
He already knows that Bill is going to forget about it as soon as Dipper leaves the room. He’s a lost case, honestly. Even for a God.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bill waves his hand around, rolling his eyes,” I’ll make sure to get to it later at some point. Maybe I’ll even make a note-- okay, who am I kidding we all know that I wouldn’t bother. You can take care of the plant. Take it into your to..uh..’liven it up’ a little? That’s what you humans do, right?”

The human laughs softly and shakes his head, taking the spell book again. Well, so much for a break. He can already feel the fatigue getting to him but he doesn’t say a thing and rather switches the pages to ‘Aero’, reading while Bill thinks of a good way to have Dipper test his wind magic.  
After a while, he produces a simple silk scarf from nothing, using his own powers to wrap it around the crystal chandelier hanging above their heads.

Once Dipper is done, he sets the book down and clears his throat, waiting for Bill to begin. Said man takes a while, yawning and lazily checking his manicure even though he has no real nails.

“This task is, once again, simple. All you have to do is get my scarf down from the chandelier. Try not to burn it while you are at it. It’s very valuable.” He emphasizes the last point, lifting a warning finger in Dipper’s direction.

Dipper only nods and keeps his eyes open, lifting one of his hands. He tries focusing on the scarf and on the flow of air through the room but it turns out to be more than difficult for him, making him try several times. Bill watches that in amusement, eventually taking pity on the poor soul. 

“Let me help you with that,” he chuckles, waving his hand. The window opens letting in the fresh breeze. It ruffles Dipper’s hair, providing him with the energy necessary to perform the task. From there, it’s an easy thing done. Although he manages to catch the scarf on one of the metal curves, he quickly works to take care of that, making sure (or at least hoping) that the scarf isn’t damaged in any way. He lets it glide all the way to Bill’s lap, doing a mock bow from where he is sitting.

“There you go. In one piece.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that. Who knew you could be so kind?” Bill mocks him with a voice an octave higher, wrapping the silk scarf around his hands absent-mindedly, twirling it. After a while, he finally looks back at Dipper, who stares right back at him.

“Yeah, yeah, you can go now, no need to stay here any longer. You should get some rest. Magic is tiring and draining. I expect you to be training alone from today on. At least the elemental magic. I will teach you the rest once you’ve mastered these.”

With a nod, Dipper takes the book, rushing out of the room for good. He can always come back later if he needs to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates, as well as this short one. The entire chapter was over 3k but I had to divide it because of reasons.


	9. Upon thee I bestow the Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mystery hides amidst the pages of the tome in his possession, forbidden texts speaking of forbidden measures, spells and incarnations, runes and secrets no man should lay his eyes upon. But Dipper is no man and it's all too tempting for him. He cannot resist the calling. But you know what they say -- curiosity killed the cat..

Back in his room, he tosses the book on his bed, pulling his night clothes from under his pillow, planning on taking a quick bath before calling it a night.

The bathroom is just as clean as he remembers it being all the time, the bathtub beckoning him silently with its polished glory. He sets his clothes down on the small table next to it. He starts the water, plugging the tub with a small hum. Then, he sits on the edge, leaning over to the various bottles of liquids lined up on display. He randomly picks one, smelling it carefully. The smell is surprisingly tame although there are hints of the rich scent of coffee that he usually smells only in the early mornings. Despite that, he has never had any actual coffee. Maybe he will try it tomorrow.

He stops the water once the tub is almost full, pouring some of the concoction into the water, inhaling the pleasant smell that spreads over the room. Setting the bottle back down, he pushes himself off the ceramic tub shedding his clothes next to it on the floor. Leg after leg he climbs into the tub, relaxing into warm water.

He stays until he feels himself start to drift off. At that point, he finally scrambles up and drains the tub, toweling himself off with one of the fluffy towels. Once he’s dry, he tosses the damp towel away, pulling his sleeping clothes on. He leaves the rest of the mess where he dropped it off, knowing well that one of the servants is eventually going to clean it up. Before he wakes up, probably.

His walk back to the bed is quick and so is his dive for the sheets. He wraps them around himself, picking up the spellbook, setting it on the nightstand. Then he pulls out the journal from under his pillow, leaning back against it as he opens the journal on the page he was examining the last time.

It catches his attention for the following thirty minutes, his eyes drooping for the last couple seconds. And then he notices it. A small slit on the edge of the page. That seems to wake him up at least a little, his attention focusing on it fully. 

He sits up straight, setting the book in his lap so he can use both of his hands for the task, thumbs working the page apart. Once he gets a good grip on both of the papers, he gently pulls them apart, revealing a whole new double page. Letting out an audible gasp, he grabs the candle from the bedside table, holding it above the new page, reading silently.

_‘If you are reading this, it means you have found my journals or at least one of them. It’s likely that I am no longer around by then._

_These journals contain a lot of secrets but and also my findings and my researches from both before I came here and after as well. Who I am is not important anymore but who I was is. Some years ago, I left the town of Gravity Falls, willingly, to follow in the footsteps of Cosmos. At first, he was a great mentor. He offered to teach me magic and provide me with all the knowledge I could ever want. And I trusted him._

_But the man is not what he seems. He is extremely manipulative and can trick anyone into any deal. He tricked me too._

_That’s why I am writing these words. I found something that can help you see. Just a warning, do this at your own risk.’_

Dipper’s eyes widen just a little after finishing the last paragraph. Bringing the candle closer, he opens the folded paper, eyes scanning over a page torn out from the very same journal.

‘The Sight’ it reads at the top. 

His eyes slide over the text, skipping over the encrypted introduction and various warnings, going right for what looks like the process of obtaining the magical ability.

_‘Recite the following incarnation while pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes:  
_ _‘Supplices te fateor meum liberare dicunt animae meae sapientis oculi tui invisibilis.’’*_

The phrase has to be repeated a few times but he eventually remembers it without major problems, whispering it under his breath until he is ready. Only then, he sets the candle down, lifting his hands up to his eyes. He does as instructed, covering his eyes, pressing his palms to his eyes gently, making sure he isn’t uncomfortable.

And then he recites. Loud and clear after taking a deep breath. 

At first, it looks like nothing is happening, what makes him almost disappointed. But, then there is a sharp stabbing pain behind both of his eyeballs. It comes suddenly and unexpectedly, making him press his palms into his eyes harshly, breath coming out in laboured gasps. At one point, he is pretty sure that he screamed. Or heard someone else scream. He has no idea where it came from. Everything seems to be somewhat dulled, especially his senses. He feels like he is restrained in one place, hears his own voice as if he were under water.

What’s worse, he can feel hot wet liquid on his palms. It would make sense that he has started crying at the pain without noticing it, yes, but when he finally manages to tear his hands off his eyes and opens them, he realises that what he has previously mistaken as tears is, in fact, blood. It coats a good portion of his palms and probably his face as well. 

Jolting up, he knocks the book from his lap, making it fall under the bed, making a straight line for the bathroom, crying his eyes out at this point. It burns him. He feels as if his eyes were literally on fire and about the be gouged out. The mere thought makes him gag and reel, the bile rising to his throat.

He runs to the sink quickly, already feeling fatigued from the few steps he takes. The faucet gets yanked open, hands get quickly cleaned, shaking, forming a cup to gather the cold water before Dipper throws it in his face, hoping it will not only wash the blood off but also decrease the burn he feels. When it doesn’t help the first time, he leans down and tries again and again until he finds himself panting and his knees buckling under his weight.  
Splashing more water onto his face, he scrubs at it viciously, the burn turning into an itch, accompanied by a serious case of lightheadedness. At that point, he thinks he might just hurl into the sink, his insides churning and threatening to just come out of his mouth and down the drain. His head spins even more, making him stumble backward.

That’s when his knees say ‘goodbye!’ and give up beneath him, his body hitting the blood-stained floor with a loud thump. His vision blurs as his head hits the cold hard ground, another headache splitting through his skull. What he sees steadily darkens until he blacks out completely.

The last thing he sees are people rushing towards him. Even though he can barely see anymore, he recognises Phoenix’ red hair.

And then it’s nothing. Silence. But not the bad kind. 

He feels warm and comfortable like he is wrapped up in a soft blanket or resting with the sun shining down on his face. The surface around him feels like soft cotton and the air is warm yet pleasantly fresh in his nose. That’s how he knows he is dreaming. Or at least unconscious.

It’s hard to tell at this point. 

Through the sound of his own blood in his ears, he can hear the white noise and the distant sound of someone singing. It sounds like a woman and it kind of reminds him of his mother but he already knows that’s impossible.

So he tries opening his eyes. But he finds out that he can’t. Not even a lash. When he tries to lift his hand to see if he could try opening his eyes by force, with a horrified gulp he finds out that he, in fact, can't move at all. Being trapped like this is scary and there are many horrible things coming to his mind now. 

Oh God, what if he’s dead?

Is this what death feels like? A white purgatory of endless white and silence spent being paralysed in one spot? 

He hopes that’s not the case.

Still, there is no factor confirming whether he is dead or alive, so he just goes with the ‘I am sleeping/unconscious’ theory. Since he is still able to think consciously, being alive is more likely. He is happy for that, even though he just did something terrible. The journal said ‘trust no one’ yet he trusted some random guy that wrote a book about mysterious things. He is still the same naive kid he always was. And it’s probably going to get the best of him. One day, it’s going to cost him his soul and probably all his following lives. Or just maybe his entire existence. Yeah, that sounds probable.

No matter how depressing that sounds, if there is hope, he will try to hold onto the thinnest of strings and hope that there will be enough to make an escape rope from.

Then he remembers Phoenix. He remembers his fiery red hair that burst into the bathroom in a rushed blur. Undoubtedly, the servant is already trying to provide first aid to him. Maybe if he is less than lucky, he went to call Bill. If he called Bill, then the God might just find out what he had done. And that would have consequences. Bad ones. 

Under no circumstances should Bill discover the existence of the journal. Perhaps, he can learn some kind of a magic to hide it. Hopefully, it’s going to work even on someone like Bill.

Now he is just getting sidetracked. 

His thoughts focus back on Phoenix and the scenario where he hasn’t called Bill to his room because that would probably be the best probable outcome. Provided that the servant can manage to put Dippr back together and wake him up. Or just leave the waking up to him and just give him a little...push instead. That could work.

And then comes the sharp stinging pain, followed by the feeling one would get if they got mowed over by a freight train. It spreads across his skull like spider webs, making his skin tingle with the impulses. 

Pure heavenly white gets marred by speckles of warm pudding yellow until these spots mend together and create a slowly spreading image of the same colour. It morphs, bright colours becoming dimmed into dark haunting tones.

Awakening comes with a shock. It’s like being reborn or like being yanked out of ice cold water and finally getting a gasp of fresh air.

He sits up abruptly, eyes wide. He is suddenly aware.

_He’s been here exactly 8 months, 16 days, 3 hours and 54 minutes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Original text said: _'Humbly I allow thee to liberate my mind, claim my soul, share your wise eyes to see the unseen. '_  
>  But back and forth translations to Latin changed it to: _'I humbly confess that you say, to my soul of the wise man, to save my eyes, that they have seen the invisible God.'_ and once again to: _'I admit, I humbly beseech Thee, O my wise man's eyes to save my soul, they say they see the invisible.'_  
>  Pick whichever you like most.


	10. Broken Bones Make Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is somewhere where the worlds meet. On the other hand, she is earth-bound and heeds the nature's calling just like her brother. The broken bones make new friends even if they have to be kept a secret.

Parallel to Dipper, somewhere on the other end of the astral plane, a girl of the same fate roams the vast halls of Minerva’s house. Tall walls of glass framed by wood painted white giving off the illusion of a greenhouse filled with plants that simultaneously functions as an aviary. Intricate swirls and designs, images of animals and plants painted upon the glass panes in thin white lines. She traces the cold images with the warm tips of her fingers, neatly shaped long nails scraping against the paint gently.

Her pink lips slowly form the tiniest hints of smiles as she walks down the hall, bare feet making soft sounds against the white stone floor. She picks at her dress with her other hand, finding the linen white material a little bit itchy for her. She misses wearing thick, warm sweaters. It’s not like she cannot wear them but the weather in this realm is quite moderate, more on the warm side. 

After a little bit of begging, the Goddess allowed her to keep her things in her new closet, nice and clean just wanting to be worn, well, more of begging. Every morning she would open the polished wooden wings of her wardrobe and run her fingers over the thick worn-out wool. It reminds her of home, of her brother.

She has asked to see him countless times only to be brushed aside with: “Don’t rush it, there is a time and place for everything to happen. Soon, you will see your brother again but that time is not now nor is it soon..”

While Minerva is usually a total sweetheart, too often she reminds Mabel of her previous teacher. Also kind of her mother but where her mother would baby her, Minerva encourages her to face the problem head on and find a solution to it, doesn’t matter what kind of a solution. Important is that it is going to be efficient.

Her lips change their position from a small smile and instead, she purses them a little into a small pout. A while later, she turns around the corner, lifting her hand from the glass to reach up and touch the beautiful yellow bell-shaped flowers hanging from the ceiling as she goes. Its vines wrap around her wrist, gently tugging at her as if wanting her to stay and pay attention to them. 

With a laugh, quiet and soft, she removes the green threads from her skin, waving a goodbye to the clingy plant, quickly rushing down the hall and out of the beautiful structure, straight into the luscious open garden filled with flora and fauna from all over the dimensional planes.

She absolutely adores the colours the garden contains - from the brightest of bright blinding colours to the darkest, hue pitch black like the void - yet all equally beautiful. Mabel loves them all, even the big red ones that smell like her brother after a month of not bathing. Surprisingly, she doesn’t mind as much as she thought she would.

A small tickle on her foot catches her attention and with a small ‘huh’ she looks down, smiling when she sees one of the small grays baby swans look back up at her. She smiles and picks it up, gently petting its head before she carries it off and back to the pond before its mother notices that it’s gone. Gently pushing it into the water with a small encouraging poke, she dips her hands into the cool water, stirring the water and threading her fingers through it. Watching the little ugly swan swim away, she gets up again, wandering to the deeper parts of the garden from where she hears singing and laughter. All cheery and female.

So she follows those voices, slowly coming across a circle of women holding hands, dancing and singing with some other sitting on benches, drinking and eating. She can recognise a few of them, some students, other servants. She recognises the tall black girl with short hair op in a bun adorned with flowers as the girl that comes to wake her up every morning in a loud cheery voice, instantly making her day better. She also remembers the small chubby brunette with her hair in a ponytail. She has a very good sense of humour and is always the one to be found feeding the animals and whose voice is the easiest to tell apart from all the others.

Her eyes glide towards the Goddess who seems to be enjoying the little get-together, joining in with the circle of nymphs (that’s what she likes to call them). Somehow, their mutual glow only increases, the sound of their harmonised voices carrying throughout the rest of the garden.

Not once has Mabel joined in. She would always watch but no matter how fun it looked, she couldn’t bring herself out of her inner turmoil of being deprived of her family. She knows that she should try to push the memory of them a little back into her mind but she doesn’t have the heart to forget. She wishes to see them all again, Candy and Grenda included. Heck, she even misses Pacifica! Speaking of her, she would love it here.

She gets pulled out of her thoughts by a soft hand grabbing her own, pulling her into the circle of dancing nymphs. When she looks up, she instantly recognises the face of her Goddess framed by her rich hair. Slowly, they both bow to each other before Mabel joins all the nymphs in the dance, following their movements, inexperienced. They are not hard but they require precise limb cooperation, concentration and a relaxed body. The dance is supposed to be mindless, expression and intuitive. It should depict their freedom, their identity, their story.

After a minute, Mabel finds herself completely lost in the dance with all the others, dancing wildly and freely just as they do, like she belongs here. With a cheerful laugh and the feeling of soft grass beneath her bare feet, she turns to the Goddess, inviting her in to join her own personal performance.

They dance and dance for hours to come but the sun doesn’t want to go down just yet. Mabel, exhausted, makes her way to one of the stone benches off to the side, sitting down with a happy sigh. 

Her feet hurt and tingled but only in the good way, although she is pretty sure that they will hurt more than anything tomorrow morning as she is not used to this kind of wild dance. Glancing down at her bare feet, she gently kicks them, letting the bottoms of her feet get tickled by the viridescent blades of grass sticking out from the bunch.

One of the nymphs approaches her, offering her a ceramic bowl full of grapes and a goblet of water. Mabel accepts the gracious gift, taking a few sips from the silver resting on her lips, setting it down once she is done.

As she watches, she plucks a few grapes, popping them into her mouth one by one, however, she stops when she senses something. From the moment she came here, she has been learning about the call of nature and how to sense it. And now it’s come to her.

It’s a strange sensation and with an intake of breath, her vision clears and shows her what exactly is the cause of the forest calling for her. There is something in the shadows. A hurt animal that needs immediate help.

Without thinking twice about it, she sets the bowl down too, hurrying around the circle of dancers and running straight into the deep dark forest, tripping over roots sticking from the ground and stepping on sticks that snap under her weight. The forest leads her to where she is supposed to be.

By the time she stops, the sun is starting to set, the world around her darkening just a little.

She tears off a small drying branch from one of the smaller trees, bringing the last of its living leaves up to her mouth, breathing in softly, exhaling with a small sound of: ‘Ignis!’ under her breath. 

The life from those leaves drains and instead, the tip of the branch lights up with fire but it doesn’t burn the branch at all. She lifts it high, looking around for the animal that has been injured and was calling out for help. As fast and as carefully as she can, she approaches the creature, kneeling down into the dusty earth, holding the stick close so she could inspect the animal.

Upon closer look, she finds out it’s a young boar with a deep gash on one of its hind legs. She frowns and brings the flame closer to the wound, reaching her hand towards the flame, absorbing its energy into her hand, fiery reds and yellows mending into pale yellows and then to white, clinging to her hand like luminous smoke, wrapping around her short fingers. She lowers her hand to the wound gently, using her other hand to gently stroke the boar’s fur to calm it down.

“Percuro,” she whispers silently, her own voice nothing more than a puff of breath. The smoke slowly moves from her fingers, clouding the wound, healing it slowly, but efficiently. In no time, the boar is up on its feet, ready to bolt away. Even Mabel is ready for it. But it never does. Instead, while she is kneeling there, it approaches her carefully, nosing at the dusty ground and her knees.

She reaches out, petting its rough fur with a small smile. In return, the boar squeals and throws itself on the ground, rolling around on its back. It coaxes a laugh out of her but she finds herself being increasingly more tired than before after using magic.

“Sorry,” she excuses herself, rubbing its stomach with another laugh. Then she gets up, dusting her white dress off.  
“You are okay now, you can go back to your friends and family..”

She nudges it gently, pointing back towards the deeper and darker greens, expecting it to go already. Yet, it doesn’t seem to want to leave her at all, instead staying by her. Experimentally, she turns and goes back the way she came, looking over her shoulder to see if the beast would continue to follow her.

And it does.

She can see its little dark beady eyes in the darkness behind her, watching her every step and following her. Taking a deep breath, she hurries a little in her walk, soon reaching the edge of the forest. She steps out into the light, walking towards the house instead of the stone bench.

In the door, she stops, turning around again and for sure, there it stands in the light. With a sigh, she opens the door, standing aside.

“Come on in then,” she smiles and beckons the boar inside, the smile staying on her face as the creature grunts and with some struggle, enters the house, its feet making clunking noises on the polished marble.

“We should bathe you...you can’t walk around looking like a ….pig,” she giggles at herself and makes a dash for her room quickly before anyone can see her, still giggling as she hears the boar squeal and start running after her. Once she reaches her room, she opens the door, rushing the beast inside and straight into the bathroom.

There, she steps towards a small in-ground pool-like bathtub, quickly filling it with lukewarm water, hoping that it won’t be that hard to wash a large boar. When the tub is half-full, she stops the flow and gestures at the water. The animal looks conflicted for a while and then waddles over to her, suspiciously sniffing at the water. When it finds it to be safe, it jumps in, squealing like a typical domesticated pig. Funny.

“I’ll name you Waddles. Since you still waddle-waddle around,” Mabel suggests and leans down to cover the pig in water, washing the dirt from it. She also ends up pouring some of the smelly soaps over him to wash out everything she can get to make it clean.

It takes a great deal of work but in the end it’s all worth it and she looks fairly satisfied with her job.

“Atta boy!” She calls out and then pauses as she helps the animal out of the tub, drying it off with one of the previously used dirty towels.

“You are a boy, right?” 

In return, the boar makes a loud sound, almost nodding its head once. That is enough of an answer for Mabel as she finishes drying him off, smiling down at him. 

“There we go!” She tosses the wet towel aside, grinning widely. Perhaps, she could find a new kind of comfort in this new animal friend of hers. After all, he is absolutely adorable, everyone would have to agree with that.

“Hey, if you promise to stay here, I will get us some food! What do you say?” 

Once again, the pig squeals with all his might, waddling over to Mabel’s room where he sits on his haunches before promptly sprawling all of his body mass across a soft moss-like rug.  
With another smile, she leaves the room, making sure that the door is shut firmly before skipping to the kitchen, humming a small tune on the way.

Soon, she is on her way back, plate piled with some food for herself and a handful of apples and veggies for Waddles. Hopefully, he is going to like those as much as she does.

She is satisfied when she finds out that he is still in her room, chuckling softly as she sets her food down on her bed, sitting down on the carpet next to him. Grabbing one apple, she holds it out to the pig, jumping a little when he lunges for it, eating with loud grunts, getting saliva just about everywhere.

“Ewwww.” With a laugh, she wipes her hand into her dirty dress, taking her own food so she can eat together with her new companion.

“What do you say that I introduce you to all the other girls tomorrow?” She questions with a hum, nudging the snorting boar with her foot. And that turns into a small poking war but of course with safety precautions to make sure that Waddles won’t accidentally stab her with one of his long tusks.

It takes a while for them both to finish. Yet one apple still remains. Both look at it and then look at each other with an unspoken challenge between them. Despite the fact that she is tired beyond belief, she still goes for it. All brings her closer to Mason. Perhaps, she could try to employ Waddles to help her with some kind of a treatment so she wouldn’t miss her brother so much.  
“.....and then I’ll make a warrior out of you. After you pass this simple test, ho!” She lunges for the apple, kicking it aside underneath the table before Waddles can go for it. She grins again as he chases after it, jumping up too so she could slide across the ground and under the heavy wooden desk. Somewhere amidst that, they both collide and roll over, both making loud pitched sounds.

Albeit, when she hears footsteps outside, she whisper-yells: ‘Under the bed, my trusty companion!’ and then proceeds to push Waddles under the bed just in time for the footsteps to stop, substituted by the sound of a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She calls out, quickly getting the tray and setting it on her desk nonchalantly as if she was here alone all the time. Just to lie through it well. She is not ready to reveal her new pet to anyone yet.

The door opens, revealing the face of the black girl from earlier, Strelitzia, her brows knit together tightly, lips pursed as she looks around.

“Mabel, dear, are you okay? I swear I heard some loud noises come from out of here,” the servant looks around, looking a little suspicious of whatever it is that has her attention at the moment. Hopefully, she has no clue about her little secret for now.

“Oh, I am fine, Streli! I just dropped my apple somewhere around here. I got caught up in a daydream. Maybe I should go bathe and go straight to bed. All that dancing has tired me out.”

The girl still looks at Mabel a little suspiciously but nods after a while, flashing her a pearly white smile.

“Alright then. I am glad everything is fine. Now go wash up and sleep. Oh, and by the way, your apple is under the desk. I can’t believe you would have missed that!”

Mabel pretends to be surprised, looking under the desk with a small gasp.  
“Oh, thank you! Now go. Good night to you too!” She calls out, watching her friend’s face disappear behind the door. Once she is sure that Strelitzia is gone, she takes the apple from under the desk, rolling it over to Waddles. 

“You eat up and I’ll go wash myself quickly. I can’t go to bed like this,” she looks down at her dirty dress, chuckling at how silly she looks like that. She then goes to the bathroom, coming out no longer than 15 minutes later with her hair damp, dressed in a fresh and clean nightgown with bows and cute shorts to match. She’s long since stopped questioning why every piece of clothing in this household is white.

Climbing into her bed, she kicks the covers aside, sighing loudly as her head hits the pillow, fatigue dawning on her hard. She almost forgets about her companion until the boar decides to climb into her bed and make himself comfortable on her legs. She laughs and reaches down to pat his head, staring at the chandelier.

“I think our friendship is going to be great. What do you say, Waddles?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, suckers.


	11. All eyes, no mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woken up after forever in the void, Dipper assesses the situation he is in, following up on the history of his friends. There is also something going on but he has yet to figure out where that will lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, ha.

Head pounding and sight still not functional, bright light in his eyes, white pain at the back of his head, consuming his skull and flesh with searing hotness that makes his entire cranium throb, pulsing red across the field of white. His neck stings, needles steadily piercing his skin, especially, he realises, around the carved symbol in his flesh. 

There is loud whistling inside of his ears and it tears his brain apart because he can’t focus. Everything hurts, his eyes itch. He feels the need to scratch them out but he doesn’t. He cannot. Not only he cannot physically make it possible but his hands weigh down his entire body, anchoring him in the soft sheets as if made of heavy lead.

It takes just about forever for his body to finally adjust to everything. Slowly, the pain subsides but he continues feeling the unpleasant warmth somewhere in the back. His vision clears and instead of white, he is greeted with the blurred sight of two people sitting on either side of him. There is a hand touching his shoulder and he can hear the voices. At first as slow murmurs, then clearer words. He can distinguish two voices as well - one female and heavily accented, other male and definitely belonging to no one other than Phoenix. 

Phoenix’ visage and voice are the first to clear out but that’s not what catches his attention first, oh no. It’s the literal imagine of a burning bird with it’s wings spread wide hovering behind the servant’s head. He’s never seen anything like this and this must be the true legendary phoenix but other than the name, he cannot comprehend any other connections the two might have.

“-ipper! Dipper! Can you hear me?” The man’s voice finally gets to him and Dipper blinks a couple of times, casting his gaze at the red-haired male in confusion. After a few seconds, he shakes his head to get his thoughts straight, nodding after taking a deep breath.

“Yeah. I can hear you, loud and clear. My head is still spinning though….” he confesses, slowly moving his hands up from the sheets and towards his face, rubbing the rest of his hazy state out of his eyes. He can only hope that the bird was an illusion. Yet, further evidence proves it wasn’t anything of that sort.

He lifts his head again, sliding his gaze towards the new person, a small, dark-skinned woman dressed in colourful clothes, gazing at him in almost a motherly caring fashion. It makes his heart ache and mouth dry out. But he breathes through it, gazing above her.  
And surely, just there above her, with its wings majestically spread hovers a colourful image of an exotic bird. One Dipper’s never even had the chance of hearing about. He blinks once again, focusing on the woman once again.

“Uh, sorry, I don’t think I have seen you around before…” he starts awkwardly, scratching his collarbones in a nervous manner.

The woman smiles in a motherly fashion, tucking a strand of thick black hair behind her ear before extending her hand towards him.

“Name is Adarna. You can call me Ada, though. You can often find me cleaning, too. Or just generally helping around while keeping an eye on all these boys here and making sure that they do not kill each other,” she laughs shortly and charmingly, shaking Dipper’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, I am Dipper,” he returns the smile easily, immediately finding Ada sympathetic. If he ignores the bird things going on. He should probably ask about it later. Yet, before he can stop himself, the words automatically leaving his mouth.

The two look at each other, Ada with a questioning look and Phoenix a little sheepishly. After a while of roasting under her stare, the male coughs, clearing his throat several times before he finally gains the courage to speak up.

“Well...each God has a specific type of servants at their house. Cosmos..well... we..we were all once legendary birds. You know, typical fairy tales of godly creatures...well, that’s us. We might not have ever been as godly as we would like ourselves to be. We flew too high and passed the realm of Atomos until we ended up here and got stuck here, I suppose..that’s probably the easiest way how to explain it. I am not very good at that, as you may have noticed…”

Dipper nods, knowing how hard it is for some people to convey their messages across to others and he also suspects that this is some kind of a sensitive topic to them since they are basically trapped here.

“So..there are others?” He questions, looking from Phoenix to Ada and back and forth several times until someone speaks up. It ends up being Ada, seeing as Phoenix would rather skip this entire discussion.

“Don't mind him,” the woman chuckles and leans back on her hand,” he is quite nervous in personal spheres but if you put him in front of Cosmos, he could make up the best lie in under 20 seconds and be so sure and confident about it that you would immediately think it's real.”

Phoenix glares at her, rolling his eyes. He is this close to pouting. It makes Dipper laugh.

“Anyway. There aren't many of us. There is me, Phoenix; Roc, scary big guy; Broxa, I honestly don't know what's up with them….; then the twins, Huginn and Munnin; Aethon - you'd like him, he is a cool guy! Ziz is a pretty peaceful guy, I am sure that you would like him too and at last, there is Hamsa and she is a, for the lack of a better word, bitch,” she finishes with a small smile on her dark lips, playing it off nonchalantly.

“Ah, I see..” the human boy states after a second of silence, trying to place the names of the birds to the correct folklore that he has read, but he cannot be all too sure. 

“Wait a second..isn't Aethon the one that pecked Prometheus' liver as a punishment?” Dipper blinks rapidly, looking at her with confusion. She only nods in return, seeming casual about the whole deal of being in the company of some bird-man that ate someone else's liver.

“Actually, he is very nice and jokes about it but you know, he would never most likely hurt a fly, although his red-meat diet is suspicious…”  
When Dipper pales significantly, Ada simply laughs, shaking her head.

“I am sorry. Don't worry, though, really. It's just a simple joke - no harm done.”

Dipper looks at her suspiciously but doesn't keep the topic up anymore, instead focusing on what was going on before.

“So, you two found me passed out, right? What even happened? I don't really remember anything…” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck where the mark still burns, hissing silently at the temperature of his skin. The two birds look at each other before nodding in unison and this time, it's Phoenix who speaks up out of the two.

“Well...we were just pushing back the couch that Aethon moved on his way when we heard a scream, so we followed it, and just when we ran here, you dropped down to the floor like a sack of potatoes.With the same amount of grace too…” he pauses to chuckle before continuing,” ..so, yeah, we came here, you passed out and then I carried you over here and Ada tried to heal you and wake you up..not sure if it worked or you woke up on your own, but I am glad you did, because I was honestly getting scared…”

His explanation ends up in a silence. Dipper bites his lip nervously, contemplating whether he should tell them or not. On one hand, it would rid him of the burden but on the other, they could still tell Bill. And he cannot risk that.

“I suppose I was just sick? Didn't have enough fresh air and all that..” he waves it all off, not about to tell them any sort of information that could possibly give away whatever the hell has happened to him after casting the spell. Somehow, he feels...aware? It’s a peculiar feeling that is hurting his head from the inside but at the same time, making it feel light as if filled with extra air. It’s strange and suffocating but in a pleasant sense. Awareness isn’t as bad, huh.

The servants don’t seem to trust him one bit but seeing as Dipper appears to be fine already, they both simultaneously decide to drop the subject and return to work.  
Before parting, Ada politely offers him the place of their residence so he can come visit them at any time he desires, whether he needs help or just wants to talk.

Dipper, obviously touched by this, nods his head in agreement, offering her a small smile.   
And then they are gone.

With a small sigh, he returns to his bed, pulling the dusty journal from underneath the bed. He blows on the cover, coughing when the dust goes right in his face instead of away from it. Opening it, he flicks through the pages until he finds the previously sealed page, looking over it several times, searching for some kind of an explanation of what has just happened to him. To his surprise, all of the pages are now covered in what appears to be some kind of a floating and glowing text, the letters swimming in front of his very eyes.

From what he can tell, the ciphers reveal more and more secrets. Frowning a little, he focuses his eyes on the jumble of purple letters and soon enough, they rearrange by themselves, forming coherent words and sentences that are easy enough for Dipper to read.

He gets lost in the book for a while, reading every floating purple text he can find to assure himself that he remembers every detail. You never know, someday, it could come in handy but for now, he is simply stuck with the knowledge in his head, unused. 

Once there is nothing more to read, he sets the book away, carefully hiding it where he thinks no one can find it. And then…...then he dares to look at the door leading to the hallway, squinting slightly as he thinks whether it is a wise idea to go out. The more rational side of his brain tells him that he should reconsider and return to bed but the other, the adventurous side of him, is screaming at him to go and explore - see what the newly gained ability does and what options it brings.

It’s hard to argue with himself, sometimes, rationality wins over curiosity but now, curiosity is taking the lead and crushing rationality like a stampede of mad rhinos. You would think he is exaggerating but he is, in fact, not.

And when curiosity gets the best of him, there is no stopping him. He is already on his way, slowly opening the door wings, peeking out to see whether the environment is safe and free of any other people. It’s easily proven to be clear, so he makes a run for it before the nearest wall decides to close him out.

He has just enough time to slip past, looking at the hall he is in, eyes gliding over the walls. At first, he is unfocused and misses the smallest of details but once he manages to catch his breath, he begins noticing something. Above every door, there is a glowing rune of an eye, the same one that Dipper has carved into his skin, but with the difference that these eyes move, watching the corridors carefully like hawks, undoubtedly all going straight to Bill to report on the situation in the house. Just as Dipper is about to pass, the eye turns towards him and he rather pretends to look around, still paranoid about being caught.

Sucking in a breath, he slips past, turning to look back once he is in a safe distance. The eye is no longer looking at him, instead surveying the other end of the hallway. That makes him release a sigh of relief, more of a breath that he didn’t know he was holding for a good while already.

In the following seconds, he decides that a trip around the whole castle is in order, starting at the top, exploring the vast labyrinth of corridors and moving walls, occasionally stopping and opening a door to peek inside in case he finds something interesting. Turns out, most of the doors are locked and, or, unaccessible. 

This leaves him with even less options than before.

So he goes downstairs, towards the dining hall, finding a few peculiar traces of runes. All of the statues seem to be wrapped up in runes that run like chains around their bodies, leading Dipper to believe that maybe with just the right spell, these statues could move and pose as guards, soldiers or simple workers. The walls, too, seem to be covered by randomly dispersed runes although there are few that seem to have a deeper meaning. 

He also notices that the furniture that was at least slightly moved displays a purple outline of its former, original, position. He remembers Ada telling him about Aethon and his love for moving the furniture around. That must be his doing.

Once he arrives into the dining room, he immediately spots a jumble of runes strung together in a vaguely door-shaped, prolonged rectangle. If his assumptions are correct, that’s where the kitchen is. Still, it feels kind of surreal that a place like this would need a kitchen when the food here stays. Maybe it’s for the occasional change? That, or maybe Bill lied to him.

Seeing as he still has some time before he is supposed to have more lessons with the God, he surveys the table, plucking a few pieces of random foods before continuing elsewhere - accidentally towards the same long hallway from before, the one that leads towards the garden. It stretches in front of his eyes, doors standing tall and proud. 

What’s different from all of the others, instead of eyes above, they each seem to have a burning purple cipher over their wooden surfaces. As he walks, he hears their callings loud and clear, deciphering most of the ciphers easily. 

The Future, the Past, the Truth, the Unknown, the Hidden; and so on, and so on. 

He remembers how Phoenix told him to stay wary and not give into the temptation but it turns out to be harder than previously, now that he can see what the doors are supposed to contain.

One quick peek won’t hurt, right?

He walks along, looking for something interesting, stopping and squinting when he finds the ‘odd one out’, namely a dark ebony door with a name different from all the others.

The Hall of Mirrors.

That sounds innocent enough. What could be bad about mirrors? 

He places his hand on the cool knob, looking up and down the hall to see if anyone is watching before turning it gently, pushing the door open.   
The room is exactly like the name described it. Full of divergent mirrors of all shapes and sizes. 

Starting on one side, he walks in a circle, looking into each mirror he passes but his reflection still remains the same. Weird, he would hope for at least something different than a bunch of ordinary mirrors.

The one that catches his attention, however, is the tallest one with edges adorned in silver. He steps close, looking at it curiously, spotting a small inscription on the very bottom but he doesn’t cave in, rather looking at himself, trying to find some sort of distortions, even going as far as to touch the mirror’s cool surface.

It ripples under his fingertips violently, creating small travelling waves that disappear once they hit the edge until eventually, his reflection is clear again. 

Dipper purses his lips, disappointed to see that still nothing is happening, although the mirror did leave his fingertips freezing cold and tingling. With a sigh, he looks back at his reflection, raising his eyebrows when he finds it staring back at him intently. He is pretty sure that the reflection was supposed to copy his movements. 

Experimentally, he takes a step forward, standing eye-to-eye with the reflection staring back at him. He frowns, expecting his reflection to do the same. He is taken aback by the mirror when his reflection grins, sickishly unnatural, almost caricaturesque in nature. His exes widen and his reflection leans in, eyes flashing yellow, pupils slit.

“Peek-a-boo,” it whispers, voice chilly before taking another step forward, stepping out of the mirror and towards the rapidly backing up Dipper. 

“You should have listened to that stupid bird,” the Dipper from the mirror cackles, lunging at its original self. He bolts right out of the room, slamming the door shut, locking the door up, stepping away until his back hits the opposite wall. The knob jumbles, hands beating and scratching on the door’s surface.

His brain goes into overdrive, legs moving without Dipper comprehending their action, carrying him away from the long hall and back to the dining room, from there bolting straight to Bill’s salon, deepening it as the only place where he can be safe for now.

However, slamming the door open probably isn’t the best kind of an entrance, attracting the attention of the room’s current inhabitants. 

Bill looks up from his cup, leaning back in his usual spot, undoubtedly smirking. The other person, who Dipper recognises as Atomos, raises his eyebrows, setting his own cup down on the table.

“Well, well, well, Pine Tree. Late for the tea party. Hope you don’t mind that we started without you,” Bill hums, summoning another cup for Dipper, beckoning him to join them.

“Meet Tad.”


	12. Why won't the Sun go down?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thoughts of Bill plague him and so do those of the mysterious journal. Several entries later and he still isn't quite sure what to make of it.

A haunting melody echoes through the house as long, slim fingers glide across the keys of the grand piano, deep voice with sugary undertones vocalising the song’s lyrics. It bounces over the walls, the echo hitting all of the people in the room in a perfect three-way harmony.

“Oh, why won’t the sun go down? Why won’t the sun go down?” Cries the beautiful voice, ranging between light baritone, through tenor and right into countertenor for heights, carrying the sounds of the opera into the ears of his listeners.

“We are going to witness a miracle tonight, oh, why won’t the sun go down, the sun won’t fall and the moon won’t wise? Oh, why won’t the sun go...down…” Bill finishes, nimble fingers playing the last of the notes until eventually coming to a halt. The God removes his fingers, turning to look at his audience.

“So...Dipper. I am deeply sorry I didn’t mention I will have a visit today but I simply didn’t have the time. I am a busy man. Got a lot to do.”

Dipper gives the man a look, squinting into the fiery orb where purple lines outline a sharply carved face, empty eyes and an eye marking in the center of his forehead, similar to those over the doors. It’s probably watching him too. Yeesh, creepy much? Eventually, he tears his eyes away, looking down at his cup.

“That’s alright, I suppose? Although, it’s nice getting to know someone else for a change,” Dipper nods and then leans closer to Tad, hoping that Bill won’t hear him from this distance,” ..sometimes it gets too much hanging out around him…”

But, unfortunately, that doesn’t escape the mighty God. He doesn’t say anything in return though, probably only rolling his eyes. Dipper kind of wishes he could see but the eyes he can see do not display pupils.

With a sigh he takes a sip of his tea, looking up at Atomos - Tad - instead, studying him carefully now that he has the chance to have a closer look. 

Unlike Bill, Tad looks more like a gentle giant, reminding Dipper of Candy with the way his face is proportioned, especially his eyes. His hair looks soft to touch, raven black with a certain amount of indigo reflection to it. He doesn’t even realise he is staring until Tad smiles at him, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Are you okay there, Dipper?” Tad asks and Dipper nods, quickly thinking of something intelligent to say.

“Uh, no? I mean, yes, I am okay. Sorry, I was just thinking about something,” he trails off and then looks between them, fully turning towards Tad.

“If you don’t mind me asking, I have heard that you are supposed to be brothers..? You don’t look similar at all…” 

Tad only laughs gently, stirring his tea gently, leaning back against the couch.  
“No, no. Humans perceive us as siblings thanks to our close connection, thinking that we are somehow interconnected. Now, I am not saying that’s completely wrong, just that we are not related in any way.”

Dipper nods and makes a small ‘oh’ sound, the gears in his head slowly turning until his brain manages to process it. Well, most of it aside from them being ‘somehow interconnected’. He supposes it could be meant in the friendship way, but hey, one can never know. Especially with Bill around.

“Well, um, I suppose I should leave you alone to talk now..I will just go outside. Thanks for the tea, by the way,” he bites his lip and sets the empty cup down, rising to his feet.

“It was nice meeting you, Tad.”

And with these words, he leaves the room, casting one last look at the two Gods, surprised to see the both of them staring back at him. He brushes it aside, simply closing the door after himself, letting his feet carry him back to the abandoned long hallway. Passing past the Hall of Mirrors, he cautiously makes sure to stay away from that door. It scares him when his previously manifested reflection starts pounding on the other side of the door again. So he makes a run for it, aiming for the garden.

Luckily, the run is quicker when he simply focuses on his destination rather than his surroundings, even if it means that he is going to crash into the door at full speed. He manages to shield his face at the last moment, only hurting his nose a little. Swinging the door open, he steps outside.

With eyes drawn to the clear blue sky, he makes his way towards the pond, seating himself on the stone bench nearby. Now that he has all the peace and quiet, he can finally focus on this ‘sight’. Or maybe just philosophise about the meaning of life. Both are good.

He glares at the imitation of sun upon the sky. It reminds him of something that the author of the journals wrote. In fact, he can clearly recall more than a few pages.

_‘Upon closer inspection and after days of long, well-aided research in the library, I have come to the conclusion that the ambiguous environment of this limited dimension is a mere reflection of what is real, a replacement for something that never existed so that we could feel like we are home. To me, it all appears as a false sense of security. Except for the stars. The stars are very much real. And they are beautiful. Bill said I could have one but I cannot accept that. I like them where they are. It’s better like that anyway.’_

_‘It’s been a couple of months and this place never ceases to amaze me. I wish I could explore more but Bill insists I stay away from all of the ‘secret’ doors. And the forest, too. Perhaps it wasn’t the best of all ideas to come to him and ask him about the dark foliage covering up the rusty gates leading into the forest. He forbade me to approach it ever again. What is he hiding there? What hides in the dark unknown? What is so important to be kept away from the curious eyes of an apprentice-researcher like me? Does he not trust me?’_

_‘Bill keeps insisting that I study magic and learn how to control it in a highly demanding manner. It’s starting to raise suspicions in me. I feel like we are playing a dangerous game of chess here. He is the King and I am a Pawn. Maybe an Archer, or perhaps a Horseman. Either way, he seems way too insistent on precisely making sure that the things I study are the things he wants me to. I fancy the way he keeps the discipline up but not the way he is pressuring me into studying everything urgently and into depth. I would like to take my time and make sure I understand everything perfectly. At this point, life has taught me that there are a few things that you cannot escape. Death, taxes and Bill’s philosophically and mentally torturing way of learning.’_

_‘Every day, it gets harder to bear. Surely, the magic is quite handy but the pressure is a little too much. I mentioned it to Bill. I couldn’t see his face but according to his body posture, I assume that he was slightly shocked albeit quite angry. I could basically see the steam coming off him. Luckily for me, he calmed down quickly. But just then, another God made an appearance. It was Atomos. His visit was completely unexpected but Bill didn’t seem to mind that and actually welcomed the distraction. I thought he almost forgot about me but he simply waved me off with his hand, saying: ‘We’ll talk about this later, Stanford. You wanted to learn, to know all the answers, yet you are complaining. Now go.’ And he rudely shoved me out of the door again. I hardly made any progress at all.’_

_‘This Atomos fellow is one of the strangest people I have ever met. He seems to hang around Bill an awful lot. Always shows up unexpectedly at the worst times, sweeping Bill’s attention away from our lessons - leaving me to tend to myself. Every time he comes, I am sent out of the saloon and locked out. I know, I have tried opening the door many times but it never budges beneath my hand. No magic works either. I have also tried staying behind and eavesdropping, yet I have never heard more than a few uttered words and phrases. Perhaps it is time to walk the green mile?’_

_‘It’s been several years and I haven’t aged a wink. I have established the fact that time stands still here a few days after I have arrived but it is still surprising, seeing as my brothers are most likely all aged up now. Even though I am no longer developing, I cannot say the same about my brain and the wide expanse of knowledge I have acquired over the years. For the longest time now I have been preparing for venturing into the unknown. My magic has been perfected behind Bill’s back while he is busy lying with his loyal guest, and finally, I am proud to say that I am ready to set down the pen and paper and instead go straight into action. The servants are on my side. They know there is something going on behind my - no, our - backs. They have smuggled supplies for me. I am very grateful for that.’_

_‘My first expedition into the unknown beyond the garden wall, well, rusty metal fence (also could be referred to as the Gate into the Unknown? I will have to name it later), happened today. Once the dark has set and I could no longer hear Bill’s laughter from his open window, assuming he was already asleep, or that he and his companion were engaging in other activities, I snuck over the wall separating what was Eden to me from what was, at the time, something forbidden and ready to get discovered. But over the wall? Things are grotesque, outlandish even. At first, the forest was lively but the further in I went, the more the forest appeared dead. It was all accompanied by an eerie silence. But then I saw...things. Unspeakable things. If this place was any real before, this is where all the illusions bled into one another, creating horrendous images and eldritch creatures. I am convinced they took some of my sanity with them. However, I found out something interesting there too. I am planning on returning back soon.’_

_‘My findings are amazing. I wish I could share them and write them all down but I need a moment to absorb everything. In the meantime, I am going to prepare for my 16th expedition over the wall. This time, I am aiming for something bigger.’_

_‘Lately, the amount of anomalies sharply rose in numbers. On top of that, Bill has noticed my absence and demands that I use all of my free time to study even more. Little does he know that I have absorbed more knowledge than a simple human brain can hold, so I began writing everything down. Bill says that excuses about my brain are pathetic and I should rather find new ones. I don’t think he is quite grasping the concept of humanity yet. On top of that, he asked me to do something, saying it would test my capability, intelligence, skill, and magic. It immediately had me hooked and for the first time in forever, we sat down together in the saloon to devise a plan. It looked like an interesting piece of technology. I am not exactly sure what it does, but we had to do plenty of work with it. I think it’s going to work out!’_ _Several pages were ripped out of the journal here, undoubtedly in a hurry or as if this man was trying to hide something from the reader’s eyes._

_‘Record of Expedition#265; Today I saw something terrifying. At first, I only thought I was witnessing trees swaying with the weak wind. Eventually, my initial theory was proven to be false. Upon closer inspection, what I originally anticipated to be a simple dry tree turned out to be a haunting imagery of what I could only assume were thousands of tormented carvings of people in a skin of thick black fog. The beast was no less than nine feet tall with intricate antlers made of branches yet the rest of its body appeared vaguely anthropomorphic, so I assume it’s safe to call it a humanoid despite the fact that I have yet to see its face. It was interesting and I wish I could stay longer to observe it or perhaps engage in an interview with it but alas, it has decided it would like my guts for dinner. I think. Nevertheless, it couldn’t chase me farther than the rusty gates. I might need a while.’_

_‘Today I encountered the beast again. I have no real name for it yet but I have tried to communicate with it. It seemed hostile for the bigger part or at least until I mentioned Bill. That seemed to work at attracting its attention at least partially and it forgot about its initial plan, instead staring blankly at me. Or so I could guess. Its eyes didn’t exactly tell me much in that aspect. Yet, relation to Bill still didn’t seem to persuade it to agree to my interview.’_

_‘I wasn’t about to mention the encounter to Bill and I could only hope the other end of the party does the same. The hostility seemed to tone down after my declaration of being acquainted with Bill of all people, yet I can still feel it lurking in the shadows nearby. I swear I can hear voices and see shadows when it does. Heck, I can even hear the wind pick up and carry the distant sound of a glockenspiel through the dark forest. At one such occasion, I remember finding the spring of all the anomalies that have occurred. I cannot really say much about it. I and Bill have finished our little project and he is taking me to the forest ‘for the first time’ tomorrow. I guess I will count it in as Expedition #618. But I have to play sitting duck now.’ ___

And that’s as much as the journal has to offer. There are no more notes after that. Whatever happened on Expedition #618 was either fatal to the author or perhaps made him unable to write more. That, or maybe he forgot the journal here...

Dipper has gathered only as many information as it was possible but now, after recalling the writing for the second time, he is more than curious to see what’s inside the forest. Yet, he’d have to be able to find it first. It might seem difficult but now with the Sight on his side, he is pretty confident in the fact that he can manage to find it without too many difficulties and obstacles in his way.

______Yet, he doesn’t think he should. He knows that the forest if hardly safe and he cannot use magic properly yet (he should probably learn something from these journals). Maybe he could ask Bill? Heh, doubt that Bill will be any hospitable about it. But maybe, just maybe it could work?_ _ _ _ _ _

______Comparing himself and Bill to him and the author, he has come across a few parallels but also complete turns. It seems as though Bill is trying to change his methods this time around and keeps Dipper on a pretty lax (metaphorical!!) leash and actually has him take his time with learning magic and explore that at his own pace. Perhaps he thinks that he can fix whatever he messed up with ‘Stanford’._ _ _ _ _ _

______With a slight hint of wonder, he looks up at the window he assumes to be a saloon, scowling a little. It was hinted at that Tad and Bill are lovers but could that be so? They looked like they were having a friendly discussion rather than what the author has witnessed. Perhaps this time around, they are being more careful when it comes to the apprentices. He will have to test that first to be completely sure. So far, it’s only a hypothesis._ _ _ _ _ _

______Meanwhile, up in the saloon, the two are no longer talking about their future ambitions and plans for the world but rather, Tad is sitting in on an armchair languidly, unlike him in a lax fashion, watching Bill waltz around the room. It’s always entertaining watching the, now disheveled, God pace around in that white gown of his, flames no longer covering his head. He loves how Bill can lose his facade just for him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Currently, Bill is pacing around the saloon, furiously rearranging furniture, redecorating with the vigour of a rich woman that can’t choose between two dresses because she likes both. Except now it’s a debate over sunny yellow and ruby red, over highly decorated furniture or something more elegant and simple._ _ _ _ _ _

______When Bill passes by, Tad grabs his hand, pulling the higher God into his lap, forcing him to stay put in one place and to finally stop pacing around. Instead, he has him relax, rubbing soothing circles into his hips, nose nuzzling his cheek._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You should sit down a little and think about it rationally. You are becoming more and more irritated the more you walk around like that..and while I have to admit it’s nice watching you pace like that, in nothing but this,” he pinches the thin material, pulling at it and forcing it off Bill’s shoulder, revealing the pitch black skin underneath. It has always fascinated him how only Bill’s face possesses the warm honey glazed skin. Perhaps the fire has its effect on that._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Let’s fix ourselves before he returns.”_ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit.


	13. Magic and Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He holds great power but even that power needs to be trained and harnessed. That's a little away from 'harrassed', what is, coincidentally, what he is next, and by twins, nevertheless! He gets brought to Bill like it's his Last Judgement but what comes after turns out to be that much better than the god's flaming face.

By the time he returns back to the mansion, the sky has turned a rich shade of purple with streaks of pink and blue, cutting the skyline like droplets of water sliding down the glass windows. 

The halls are cold and no longer tempting him. Now that he has cleared his head, he can finally focus on other things. A small warning light goes off in his mind. His brain is telling him that his birthday is going to come up soon and this might be the first time he will celebrate it without Mabel. The thought alone scares and saddens him.

There are still some days left before it, though. Days he wants to spend studying magic and getting better at it. If he ever wants to set a foot into the forest, he will have to be able to protect himself from what lies within. Better safe than with your guts all over the forest ground.

With this in mind, he returns to his room, immediately going for the spellbook on his desk, opening it in the section labeled as air. Since he has currently nothing else at hand, this will have to do. After all, it’s supposed to be easy, right?

He starts up with some warm-ups, letting simple breeze ruffle his hair and clothes. Slowly, he adds fuel to the spell, making the wind pick up around the room, rustling the bed sheets and curtains. He lets it escalate up to the point where the wind threatens to knock off the things from his desk. That’s his cute to stop and let it drop back down. Maybe one day he can make a hurricane with just that.

Once he feels confident in his abilities of mastering the air (he made sure to go by the book, step by step), he moves onto water, moving into the bathroom for that since that’s his nearest water source.

He opens the faucet, filling the sink up halfway with water. He quickly changes pages, going to the water spells, starting from the easiest manipulation of water. Forming an orb and lifting it up is remotely easy, yet when it comes to any actual manipulation, Dipper fails terribly. His coordination and precision are hardly coherent enough. The water, in turn, refuses to obey him, slipping out of his control and splashing all over the bathroom floor. 

With a groan, he tries again and again but the more he tries and fails, the more desperate he grows. And with desperation comes even more failure. After a while, he simply gives up. He has a lot of trouble handling water and must admit that he will need professional help. Perhaps he could ask Tad. Even if he is not his God, he isn’t all that sure if he can put any faith in Bill’s ability to successfully demonstrate those spells.

And slowly, like this, he moves through most of the spells, ending up exhausted at the very end. He quickly washes himself, aiming straight for the bed once again. It was a long day and he deserves all of the rest he can get.

He doesn’t even bother with changing, falling face-first on the soft surface. And as soon as he is fully lying against it, he passes out.

The sleep that comes after his eyes close is warm and fluffy, making his limbs tingle and go numb. Waking up seems like a nuisance now. It’s something Dipper doesn’t want to do. Not now, not anytime soon. 

It’s only a good while later that two almost identical voices rouse him from his sleep, forcing his brain into an overdrive to restart after the nap. With his eyes still closed, he listens to the voices.

“What shall we do?” Asks the one on his left, the one on the right echoing it back immediately.  
“What do, shall we?”

“When he wakes up, we must report to Cosmos!”  
“Report to Cosmos we must, when he wakes up!”

To Dipper, the first voice sounds more human while the other bears an accent similar to a crow’s cry. Something is telling him that this might be the twins Ada spoke of. The messengers and advisors of Gods. Huginn and Muninn.

“I think he is waking up!”  
“Waking up, I think, he is!”

“That’s what I said.”  
“I said that!”  
“I said it first!”  
“I said it second!”

And the entire segue is followed by movement and plenty of squawking. Curiosity gets the better of Dipper and he shifts, opening his eyes to stare at the two identical brothers above his bed, both pale with hooked noses and black hair mixed with feathers.

They both stop when they notice he is fully conscious, turning towards him simultaneously and completely in sync. It’s almost creepy.

“He is awake!”  
“Awake he is!”

“We must take you to Cosmos right away!”  
“Take you to Cosmos right away we must!”

And then there are two pairs of hands with sharp nails digging into his biceps’, pulling him out of the bed and right to his feet, dragging him out of the room.

The two handle him nothing next to nice, basically throwing him down on the floor once they reach Bill’s saloon. As soon as it is possible, he pushes himself up, dusting his clothes off. For a split second, he turns to glare at the raven brothers, giving them a sour look before turning to Bill sitting at his usual place while his guest stands by the window, leaning out of it dangerously. Why is he still here anyway?

Dipper clears his throat, pulling himself together as he walks over to Bill, closely followed by Huginn and Munnin, who stop behind Bill, each on one side.  
With a grin, Bill pats the place next to him, snapping his fingers to get Tad’s attention. The other God leans back, closing the window. He then walks around, sitting next to Bill from the other side.

“Since you have already met Tad, I think it would only be appropriate that you also meet the others - and this meeting is just the perfect opportunity for it, wouldn’t you say?” Bill hums, reaching over to ruffle Dipper’s hair with his claws, making sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt him.

“Alright?” The teen scrunches up his nose, attempting to lean away from Bill’s invasive hands but that doesn’t seem to work one bit since Bill’s hands are pretty long and simply follow after him. 

And so they wait in silence. 

Several minutes later, Phoenix opens the double-winged door, showing the other Gods in and at the moment, Dipper can’t say that they look as majestic as usually. 

Enten’s windswept hair is sticking in all directions, wrinkles around his eyes a little more prominent, Minerva and Leviathan are trying to stand proud but there is something obviously bothering them. Something they’d like to discuss with Bill. Yet, once they see Dipper, they only look at each other and mutually agree to bring it up at a later date.

“Welcome, welcome, please have a seat,” Bill gestures at the sofa in front of him, leaning back as their meeting officially starts.

Dipper tries to merge with the couch, feeling inferior to just about everyone in the room. He basically isn’t paying attention all that much although he does catch a few things here and there.  
He also almost misses Bill telling him something.

“Uh, what?” He asks, blinking up at the God in confusion.

“I asked you if you wanted to ask something? Since I’m about to send you out so we can continue a more ...godly debate.”

Dipper let’s out a small ‘Oh..’, biting on his lip. Then he gets an idea.

“I would like to know if it’s possible...can I go visit Mabel? It’s our birthday soon and I haven’t seen her in so long…” he starts carefully, looking up at Bill with big eyes, soon moving his gaze to Minerva and then back.

The two Gods share looks as well, eventually ending up nodding to Dipper’s request. It’s Minerva who speaks up next.

“Of course..you can go ready and after we are done, I will take you back to my house with me,” she smiles at him and he tries to return it yet he can’t help it but grin, nodding before running out of the room to ready himself. This is going to be really great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeey, I know this is a little shorter but I am kind of busy and running out of prewritten chapters, so I had to break one chapter into two.


	14. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things change after a year, some don't. People change too. The family grows. Magic is learnt.

He doesn’t have to wait long but in the meantime, he washes in the sink, changes his clothes and attempts to put his hair under control. But to no avail. It still sticks out.

Once done, he packs a small backpack, filling it with papers, pens and the journals. He then notices something on his desk and with a small smile, he reaches for the gleaming necklace in the shape of a simple pine tree, one that encloses Naos, the star Bill let him have. Maybe he can get something like that for Mabel too? It would make a perfect birthday gift. He has to ask Bill first, though.

After the meeting is over, Dipper makes his way over to the saloon again, waiting for the Gods to leave one by one. Once it’s Minerva’s turn, he politely bows and asks her if she could wait a second while he talks with Bill.

Seconds later, he is walking out with Minerva, smiling widely as his hand grips the new necklace, a shooting-star-shaped one with soft pink glow and the star Mirach from the Andromeda galaxy. His own is glowing blue, gently tucked under the collar of his nice blue dress shirt. 

Minerva takes his arm, leading him out of the castle before turning to him, forcing his vision to swim and distort, then blacken. He can feel the ground beneath his feet disappear and it takes a while for him to feel it again.

When he does, he dares to open his eyes, gasping at the scenery around him. Rich greenery everywhere he looks, soft grass under his feet, various animals in sight. It’s almost like a biological explorer’s dream.

“Can you show me the way?” He looks up at the Goddess, the silent plea in his voice emphasised by a hint of desperation and need to see his sister as soon as possible. In return, the Goddess smiles at him and simply and quietly leads him to the aviatory-like house.

Dipper completely forgets to close his mouth, staring at the creatures around him. They range from the most ordinary to the completely monstrous, grotesque and gruesome. And he is endlessly fascinated by each and every single one. If he had any more time, he would surely spend hours studying and sketching each in full details.

In no less than 5 minutes, he is standing in front of a simple wooden door painted white like everything in the house, however, on top of the white coating, he can easily recognise drawings that just scream MABEL. With a smile, he thanks the Goddess, fixing himself before knocking three times, as per tradition.

He can hear shuffling and Mabel’s muted voice from the other side. One last time, he assures himself that he still has the necklace in his pocket, taking a deep breath. And then the door swings open and he meets face to face with his sister.

“Surprise?” He tries with a small smile and a shrug but before he can really finish the word, Mabel screeches like a banshee and tackles her brother to the floor with a loud laughter and some tears.

“Oh my God, Mason! Bro-bro, I thought I’d never see you again!” She squeezes him tightly, making him wheeze and gasp for air. Wow, when did she get so strong?  
Eventually, she lets him breathe, helping him up and dragging him to her room, shutting the door firmly.

“How did you even get here?!” She immediately bombards him with questions and he can’t help but laugh, holding his hands up to have her quiet down.

“Mabel, okay, calm down and let me talk, okay? Thank you,” Dipper shakes his head and runs a hand through his messed up locks, licking his dry lips

“I actually asked Bill if I could come over here and he agreed since it’s going to be our birthday soon. And well, I don’t want to spend it all alone.”

“Who’s Bill?” She asks immediately, eyes widening just a little.

“Oh, um, Cosmos. That’s kind of like his human nickname, I guess?”

“Ah,” she nods understandingly, looking around,” I have someone to introduce to you too but don’t tell anyone, okay?” 

Dipper lifts his eyebrows and watched her get up, sneaking over to the closet door before opening it.

“Meet Sir Waddles Wadlington, the war-hog that could.”

From all the things she could have possibly whipped out of a closet, the 300-pound pig really wasn’t something that Dipper would have guessed. And the thing charges right for him. 

With a manly yelp, he moves out of the way, moving to sit on Mabel’s bed, pulling his legs up for safety reasons too. He won’t risk shit.

“....okay but why exactly do you have this giant monster living in your closet?” He asks, scooting back a little more as the hog easily reaches the top of the bed. Knowing his sister, she sees him as a cute little pink piggy that she can dress up. No kidding.

The brunette only laughs and sits down on the floor, hugging the hog close. Dipper is this close to telling her to watch out. She could gouge an eye out on those tusks.

“And why not? I found him in the forest! He was hurt, I helped him, and then he followed me home! Now we are inseparable partners in crime!” 

As if to confirm that, the pig squeals loudly, butting his nose against Mabel’s cheek. As if that made Dipper relax.

“Alright, alright. I know you always wanted a pet but..uh..are you really sure about this? You could have gotten, I don’t know, a puppy? Or a bird?”

“Oh, psh, that wouldn’t be me, broski!”

And it’s true. Mabel wouldn’t be Mabel without doing weird crazy things. He is glad to see that she hasn’t changed a bit.

“So, I don’t think we have that much time to spare and I’d still like if you showed me around - this place is breathtaking - but I have a present for you. You know..birthday and all…?”

She gasps before he even finishes, springing up to her feet before running over to her closet again, digging through it wildly.

“Hold on, hold on, I have something for you too! I just need to find it. I have so many things, wow… it might be a little glittery but that’s a detail, hopefully you don’t mind..”

Soon, she pulls back, holding out a blue sweater. It looks to be a size too big for him but he definitely loves it. Gently, he takes it from her, inspecting the imagery of a starry night with dark blue pine trees at the bottom.

“It’s really pretty..and soft! Where did you get a material like this?” He digs into his pocket, grasping the pendant, carefully wrestling it out, handing it over.  
“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“We have sheep here!” She laughs, gasping at the bright, shimmering pendant, immediately inquiring about the ‘jewel’s’ origin. Dipper has to explain that it’s, in fact, a star, barely managing to finish before Mabel tackles him, hugging him tightly.

“..a sincere sibling hug?”

“..a sincere sibling hug.”

After a while, the two of them manage to leave Mabel’s room and she takes him on a grand tour of the aviary and gardens, showing him everything and even explaining it to details since she knows how much her brother loves that. She can see the spark in his eyes. She then gets an idea, pulling her brother aside, forcing him to sit down on the marble bench.

For a second, she disappears but comes right back, holding a single seed in the curve of her palm, holding it out for Dipper to see as she sits down.

“Okay, now look carefully!” She takes a small breath, gently and fluidly circling her hand above the seed. Ever so gently, the capsule breaks, allowing a single bright green tendril to push out, crawling upwards towards Mabel’s hand, which slowly comes to a halt along with the small plant.

She then lifts her hand, turning it palm up, fingers pointing in the general direction of the pond. Her index finger curls up as if beckoning someone or something to come closer and surely enough, soon, Dipper can see a thin string of clear water travel through the air, forming a halo above Mabel’s finger. He notices that she is circling it now before bringing it to the seed, swiping her hand over it.

Surely enough, it grows steadily in her palm and with a smile, she invites Dipper to follow her towards the forest where she plants the growing seed into the dark soil, kneeling by it until it grows up into a juvenile tree, taller than the twins combined.

“Wow,” is the only sound that Dipper makes, watching the tree with his jaw open. 

“Mabel, that was perfect! How did you--- I can’t even keep that stupid potted plant from sagging over and you can grow an entire tree?”

She laughs at his surprised reaction, though it does surprise her that he doesn’t excel at magic as much as she had previously thought he would.

“Okay, I know this is going to be embarrassing as fuck but we still have some time and...would it be too much for me to ask...would you teach me? I really need to learn magic and while I know the theory, you don’t even need it! You are a natural!”

He knows he is begging her at this point but he doesn’t care.

He needs her help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up a week late with Starbucks*  
> So, uh, the update?


	15. Dear Doppelgänger this is Where the Worlds Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is okay once he leaves but the situation at home is anything but that. After struggling to save his life, he figures it's about time that he has done something logical. It's time ti go,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there are a few more chapters left to this, sorry I am taking so long but I just ended school and I am completely dead but I am doing my best to get to writing. Just bear with me a little longer I promise I am going to be done by the end of summer....I hope, at least.   
> But yes! Here are the chapters that will follow:  
> 16\. 'Tell Tale Disaster'  
> 17\. 'Battle Tactic - Brinksmanship'  
> 18\. 'Fire and Brimstone'  
> 19\. Epilogue - 'Pity Party'
> 
> Also, I will be posting short drabbles soon. I have some for several fandoms so look out for them!  
> Anyway, thanks for all the support!!

The twins devise a plan afterward. Naturally, Mabel agrees to help her brother in more ways than just one and offers him a quick ‘go-through’ on how to improve his water magic. He still seems a little baffled by it, especially her explanation but after a few tries, Mabel suggests that he considers it as one of his ‘observations’, telling him to ‘pretend that the water is a gentle creature you want to study’, or something like that.

The few first tries, he struggles. And he struggles through a good amount of all the other tries but there is definitely an improvement in the way he handles the magic and how he perceives it.

Nevertheless, he is slowly getting the hang of it and after a few hours, he manages to do decently enough to be satisfied for now. Unfortunately, it is also the time that Minerva comes to collect him and after a brief goodbye (including one awkward sibling hug), Dipper leaves along with the Goddess, experiencing the same blackout as before, although this time, he recovers quicker.

When he turns, she is long gone and with a disappointed sigh, he returns to the manour. Almost immediately, he notices that something is amiss. Instead of the eerie quiet sometimes cut by the walk of servants or movement of the walls (occasionally by Bill’s piano or singing), there is a mess in every room and hall, loud voices echoing through the halls. When he thinks that it cannot get any louder, he hears a maniacal laughter echo through the halls, carrying through the entirety of the House of Cosmos. It sounds close. Closer than he would like it to be.  
With a loud gulp, he begins to descend into the further depths of the manour, telling himself that he is ready for what is to come, no matter what. He must be. It’s either something serious or just another one of Bill’s jokes and he is praying that it winds up being the second. No matter how sick of a joke it would be, it’s still the more acceptable option. Also ‘lesser evil’.

“Peek-a-boo!” A voice chuckles behind him, a hand coming to cover his mouth when he wants to scream, another sneaking around his waist, gripping him tightly before lifting him off the floor, dragging him backward. He kicks and struggles but the other person is stronger than him and he cannot seem to focus enough to summon his magic. 

Sooner than he knows, he is thrown down, his body hitting the concrete floor with a sickening crack although the pain is not as bad as it initially seems, nor is the damage. It’s just his arm and he can barely move his fingers. With a whimper, he looks up at his attacker, freezing for a while, eyes gone wide open.

“You…?”

“Hello,” his sentient, and possibly crazy, reflection from earlier beams down at him, mouth pulled into a twisted grin, his gums and teeth completely bared. Dipper doesn’t know what to do, only able to stare back at his own contorted face that came out of the mirror.

Too bad that he doesn’t even have the proper time to react, instead receiving a kick to the head and a stomp on his injured arm and then his reflection turns tail to him, marching right out of the door and before he is shut in completely, the other Dipper pokes his head into the room again, winking at him.

“Have fun and don’t try to get out. The knob is only on one side,” and with another maniacal laugh, the copy is gone, effectively locking Dipper in the cold room with mirrors again. he shivers and curls up, pressing his healthy hand to his temple, withdrawing it when it comes to contact with something wet. There is no use being surprised when he sees that it’s blood.

With great struggle, he sits up and curls in on himself, supporting himself with his good arm firmly on the ground, his other hanging limply by his side in pain. He still has his backpack, so at least that’s a good sign but other than that he is fucked. The lack of light serves him no justice as he crawls over to where the door was before, now a thin purple line that is just barely there.

He removes his backpack and pulls out the roughed journal, already knowing the way the texture of the cover feels in his hand. Next, he sets it down and opens it, then he pulls out the necklace from under his shirt, coaxing the star out from its case. As it gets freed, it shines down brightly, bathing the room in cool blue light, providing enough luminosity for Dipper to skim through the book without any trouble.

Firstly, he looks for some simple healing spells. There isn’t much on those but he still wants to try, praying that he won’t end up hurting himself more than he already is. For all he knows, he could be capable of that..or not, he can still overestimate himself.

Biting his lip, he looks through the pages before eventually flipping them and searching for a spell that could unlock doors like this, especially since there seems to be no magical seal from the inside, nothing that could effectively get him out.

Once he finds one, he takes a deep breath and holds his hand on the cold stone wall, closing his eyes. 

“Deoperio,” he whispers, pressing his hand against the stone, giving it a small push. To his delight, the door opens, even if for an inch or so. With another breath, he tries again, this time sounding more confident in his abilities.

This time around the door opens some more, enough for him to slip through. He lets out a small laugh and swiftly packs the book up, taking Naos in the pendant before he attempts slipping through the door, almost managing to get stuck but he pulls through with little difficulties.

And then he is on the way, hurrying through the halls so he can locate his evil..twin? Reflection? Whatever he actually is. He has no plan and no chance of taking him down but he needs to do something to stop him.

It’s reckless to dive in without any plan at all but he decides to risk it, taking a deep breath, slowly letting the air out as he sneaks through the corridors, keeping an eye out for his evil copy.   
Surely, Bill must have been already alerted about his presence if the eye runes placed every few meters. 

But then again, he doesn’t know what the copy’s intentions could possibly be. Is it a complete opposite of Dipper? Or just a more powerful, evil version of him?

He frowns at his own thinking. The copy, if a copy, shouldn’t be more powerful than he is and if this other Dipper displays such a level of skill, then he surely must too, right? Somewhere inside of himself….

He stops for a second, pulling out the journal again, skimming through the author’s personal notes to see if there is anything useful at all. Any sort of information for unlocking this potential in him. Yet all he finds is the man simply ‘knowing that it’s inside of him and it wants out’. If that doesn’t sound creepy, then nothing else does. It’s also very shit advice. Except it’s not advice at all, he reminds himself with a disappointed sigh.

He sticks the journal back and breaks into a light jog, looking around the halls for the little mix wearing his face. And then he sees something. Faint purple footsteps glowing on the polished marble floors, slowly dissipating from existence. He must have been here recently, he concludes, hurriedly following them before they manage to disappear out of his sight completely.

The further they lead him, the paler he feels himself grow. The footsteps follow a well-known path for him and even with the walls changing around so much, it fits the right patterns. Sooner than he knows, he finds himself in front of Bill’s saloon. 

He doesn’t hesitate at all, praying that whatever he is going to find won’t scar him mentally for eternity to come. Luckily, that doesn’t happen, but he narrowly and barely manages to dodge a candelabra that comes flying his way, scraping against the hall floor with a chilling screech. He involuntarily shivers and turns to the scene in front of him.

The fake Dipper is levitating furniture and various decor above his head, throwing whatever he manages to get his hands on at Bill, who languidly and easily dodges all the things thrown his way. Dipper opens his mouth to speak but before he can, Bill turns to him.

“Fancy having you join us, Pine Tree,” he snorts at him and the fake Dipper uses the moment of distraction to throw a porcelain kettle at him, but before it can hit him, Bill steps sideways and shoves him out of the way. The kettle smashes into the back of Bill’s head, momentarily extinguishing the flames around it and Dipper can only gape as he catches a glimpse of a shock of blond hair. The impact of Bill’s body makes him tumble to the side and he meets the floor inelegantly, his backpack spilling its contents over the floor. 

The next thing he knows, Bill goes up in flames and not just his head but his entire body, and he thinks, naively, that maybe it’s because of the kettle being smashed against the back if his head. Oh, how wrong he is.Little too late he realises that Bill is staring at what slid out of his bag.

The God summons the journal into his hand, glaring at its cover. Dipper manages to scramble up, setting the half empty bag down, quickly stuffing the rest of his things inside.

“Dipper. Where did you find this?” Bill hisses at him, flaring up in rage again. He almost takes a step back, voice quivering.

“I found it in the library!” He tries to defend himself but it’s not working at all and with another snarl from Bill and the next thing he knows, the book goes up in flames.

At that moment, something snaps in him.

It feels like the floodgates in him have opened and at once, he feels a surge of power in him. The book is torn out of Bill’s grip with surprising strength. Then it’s Bill who is being pushed aside and into a plush armchair. The Dipper’s are left facing each other. 

The fake one is still levitating the real Dipper’s favourite chair above his head. If he can do it, so can Dipper and the next second, the chair is half flung and half set down on the floor, toppling over either way. 

They charge at each other in a flurry of motion. Dipper has no idea what he’s doing, just letting the powers naturally take their course of action. The journal is still glued to his magic, floating above their heads and he cannot help but keep thinking about what the author wrote. And he thinks, no, he knows that he can and he will win this fight. Not even the best copy is as good as the original.

He doesn’t even notice the satisfying crunch his magic makes when it connects with the copy’s face and his head snaps to the side. The other Dipper takes a few steps back, rotating his head by almost 180° before snapping it back into place. That’s one thing that Dipper cannot do. It’s not as much impressive as it is disturbing.

Still, he has to put an end to it, waiting until the fake charges him again. He grabs him around the chest and wrapped like that, together they stumble through the halls. By then, Dipper has a plan, steadily pulling the copy of himself through the mansion and back through the door from which the hellspawn came.

“It’s over,” he huffs in the copy’s face, slowly and steadily pushing him back and deeper into the room, forcing him to back away towards the ornate mirror. Once they are close enough, he gives the other Dipper a hard shove, forcing him to trip over the mirror’s frame and straight through the reflective surface. He effectively disappears through yet then he appears again, ready to jump out of the mirror to have Dipper’s head but he runs into an invisible barrier that is essentially the glass, pounding against it.

“I am still the better and real one here,” Dipper smirks, panting softly. Eventually, he has to sit down, slinking backward to rest against the cool wall.

It takes him a while to get composed but afterward, grabbing the journal, he drags himself back to Bill’s saloon, looking at the floor rather than anything else. He swoops in and takes his backpack and before Bill can even call out to him, he disappears, quickly going to the dining room if only to grab some food and pack it away. 

Then he runs.

Through the long corridor and outside of the mansion, not looking back behind himself to see if anyone - Bill or the servants - are following behind him. In mid-run, he focuses whatever magic he has left to find the iron gate the author mentioned beforehand. It’s possible that he found something behind it and it made Bill angry. Whatever it was, Bill clearly hates this Stanford the journal belonged to. 

He doesn’t want to risk the same so he rather runs away. Is it brave, or is it cowardly? He doesn’t know but he has a clear goal in his mind, rushing to the heavy metal door, pulling at the bars, trying the handle. It’s rusted shut, so the only way through is to climb over it. Seeing as he has no time to spare, he grits his teeth and with great struggle, he manages to pull himself over the stone wall. The descent is much worse and to avoid spraining his ankles, he turns and holds onto the edge, slowly sliding his legs down the wall until he is hanging as straight as a candle. He then dares to drop and although it’s not a great height, it still manages to make his bones ache upon the impact.

Not thinking twice about it, he charges through the dark forest with the journal tucked under his arm, trying to breathe steadily but he isn’t in the best physical shape to be sprinting for that long and he tires easily.

When he comes to a halt, he is forced to lean against the nearest tree, completely out of breath. For a moment, he sits down, digging around in his bag. Firstly, he pulls out the sweater Mabel made for him, putting it on to combat the cold of the eerie forest around him. While he has already opened his bag, he plucks out a small snack, scarfing it down eagerly. He hasn’t even realised how hungry he was and how much the magic really took out of him. 

On one hand, he would very much like to take a nap to replenish his energy but he knows that staying down will only make him more vulnerable and easier for Bill to catch up to and he doesn’t want to risk that, so he moves on despite the strain on his legs and lungs.

Every time he is close to passing out, he tells himself to move on, pinching his hands and legs to keep himself from falling asleep, breath coming out in short huffs and puffs. It feels like he’s been walking forever. By now the forest is impossibly thick and looming over him, making him shudder.

He keeps going until he is on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. When he sees the soft glow in front of him, he thinks that his mind is playing tricks on him, simply deceiving him by giving him false hope.

One pinch, then another and after that just one more yet the image doesn’t disappear from the clearing in front of him. He cautiously and with carefully calculated steps approaches the elongated silvery oval flinting vertically above the ground. Curiously, he stands in front of him, and for a moment, he can feel a cool breeze on his flushed cheeks. Next, his nose is met with the sharp smell of sea salt. But his eyes don’t see anything past the circle. No hint of the sea. 

Then he hears the seagulls and that convinces him it's a dream.

However, when he reaches up to touch the silver lining, fingers trailing across it. It’s cool to the touch and reminds him of the mirror from which the fake Dipper arose. The memory makes him shudder and recoil. 

And yet, he cannot help it but be curious. It strikes him as incredibly stupid after what has happened last time but there is a small part of him that craves the knowledge of what lies beyond. And whatever it is, it’s very likely better than a pissed off God who is probably looking for him. Or worse, waiting until he gets back himself.

He doesn’t want to risk that. 

Bravely, he sticks his hand out, surprised when it disappears beyond the silvery light, looking as if it disappeared nowhere. When he pulls it back, it comes out as it was before, albeit a little wet. Looking down at his hand, he takes a deep breath and then looks back one more time. He throws it all behind for now and with a gulp, steps through into the circle, instantly falling.

The fall isn’t that long and when he looks up, his eyes widen. Up there above him, he sees a silvery line of the same kind and even higher above that looms a dark planet dusted with speckles of stars. 

Somehow, he knows that this is it. This is where the worlds meet.


	16. Tell Tale Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three long years that he was gone - he travelled far and got stronger. But there are some things that not even long self-discovering journeys can prepare him for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, my laptop fucked up and I am so so far behind and completely uninspired to continue but I will do my best.  
> I began posting drabbles so please, go check it out and give it some love! I take requests for multiple fandoms.

What follows are three years full of wandering around. Sometimes he finds himself being a lost soul in the land of the unknown and sometimes, his surroundings make him feel strangely at home. 

He’s been through a lot in the years of absence from the grasp of his God, who still couldn’t find him, couldn’t reach out to him. Or maybe he could but did he want to? That would be something that Dipper would only find in the years to come.

It all began in the strange world into which he’d come under unusual circumstances and it simply escalated from there. The land was colder and darker - soil black and sometimes moist, sometimes hard enough for the soles of his feet to hurt over the course of days. The hint of a forest seemed much denser than what he has seen before and eerily quiet. That and it was void of life for the day. However, the creatures within were livid once the moon illuminated the land. As time went, Dipper developed the necessary survival skills. He could easily locate streams veining through the forest, find shelter, find food. However, he wouldn’t dare to guess how much time has passed ever since. Any attempts to record dates came across as fruitless since it was sometimes hard to distinguish day and night.

He only found what land this is once he cross-navigated the forest and wound up on a rocky cliff that lead down to a shore half made of natural rocks and stones and half made of chiseled and polished marble with looming broken columns and an intact staircase descending into the deep dark waters of the endless ocean. Only then he knew that he has crossed the lands of the Leviathan.

Having already barged in just like that, he didn’t think he’d need further invitation but rather than trespass more than he already had, he’d knelt at the sea’s unmoving edge, right then and there before the staircase. And he prayed. Silently, with his voice softer than a whisper, hands static in his lap.  
Unexpectedly, the sea parted before him, all silent and fluid. The water was still and intact despite the movement and slowly, the stairs of marble were revealed to him. Cautiously, he stepped on them, finding the stone cool and dry. He was delighted and slowly descended into further darkness, turning his head to watch the ocean’s surface knit back together behind him. He was confused about the act then but as he sought refuge in the ocean’s depths more and more often, he got used to it. However, he would still stare at the luminescent jellyfish in the waters around him with awe, completely silent as he was lulled deeper into the abyss, following the soft melody of a siren’s song.

Leviathan was so like and yet so unlike her land - he couldn’t exactly pinpoint the similarities and differences but he felt them. She emitted an air of calmness, unspoken authority, and sometimes, something akin to a mother’s affection. She took care of him, she taught him things and helped him improve his magic, especially what regards his balance, control, focus and his water manipulation. She showed him the strings of fluidity and how to let it course through his veins and most importantly, she understood. She didn’t question why he ran away from the House of Cosmos and hid in the Leviathan’s Den. She welcomed him and provided but there was something dangerous in her eyes at the mention of the celestial God and Dipper didn’t dare to even think what that could mean.

But, even then, he didn’t stay for too long. A couple of months. Maybe a year. Maybe a little more than that. He had to move on and the Leviathan understood. He told her about his need to travel, find information and get stronger. He’s learnt plenty of things in her domain but even the secrets of this place are not endless and even though he has not yet uncovered all (he did not dare to set a foot in the rest of the ocean alone and for a while, he wasn’t able to do it even with Leviathan at his side, too scared to venture beneath).

Though she was more help than that. She provided things he needed and once he was ready to depart, she’d even given him the directions to another rift - another portal he can jump through.

And then he’s gone.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Another one?! Bill, this is the second charge you’ve lost in 50 years!” Tad’s voice is much above average when those words leave his mouth. But it’s true. In the span of fifty years, Bill has managed to somehow lose two of his charges and it’s very likely that they both ran away and possibly took the same route - something about the family legacy, or something similar. Truth be told, Bill isn’t really paying attention to what Tad is saying, too deep in his own thoughts. It’s true that this is the second time shit like this has happened and the situation was very much similar, however, for Ford, Bill was after the intelligence rather than the skill and with Mason--no, Dipper, it was a little bit of both.

There was a prophecy once and Bill almost forgot about it until he’s laid his eyes on Dipper. From then on, he knew that the boy is his one and only answer to everything. A cog that would put his plan into motion. With him, he is invincible. Well, was. Until he’s lost him. And that was his fatal mistake. One he did not see coming. Dipper is so meek and moldable, he had him in his palms and ready to submit. And then….and then he was gone like the wind and with him, so was Bill’s master plan.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s broken something until there is cold black tar seeping from his hands and Tad shouting profanities, that Bill wasn’t aware Tad knew, in ancient languages.

Even then, it’s hard for him to face it. He was so close…

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Then, next thing he knew his mouth was full of nothing but dust and dirt and upon gazing ahead of himself, he saw endless spans of fields upon fields. Sometimes they were meadows but it was always divided - green leaves laced with golden lanes of cereals - Enten’s Hollow.

The sheer life force coming from the soil was too much for even him and filled him with endless energy. He was on top of the world and despite himself, he buried his hands and feet in the soil and let his skin soak in its power. It felt like home.

From there he continued onward without looking back, spurred on by the newfound vitae and the need to repeat the learning process from before. This time, finding the God was difficult. More than the last case. He’d probably spend a couple of days roaming around like a lost soul, getting attacked by vicious crows left and right. That made him run for it and run he did at top speed, criss-cross through the fields. The only relief from sharp beaks came when he met face-to-face with a particularly well-done scarecrow. Truth be told, it scared him as well.

But, oh, thank the Gods for his sharp eyes or else he would miss the simple cottage up on a hill - the scarecrow was pointing to it. It was homey and surrounded by a herd of silent sheep. The path to it seemed hand-made as well, inviting him up further and so he went despite the voice at the back of his head warning him of possible dangers awaiting him in the strange house.

Luckily, none of the worries turned out to be accountable as Enten turned out to be quite the host, offering Dipper food hand-made from scratch, clothes and the likes of it. It all reminded Dipper of home too much and oh, how it hurt to remember. A sentimental emotional trip to the past later, he has asked Enten for the things he has asked the Leviathan - a help with his magic and hints or secrets to share.

Other than that, the Sight helped him find traces of the Author of the journal. They were small and barely visible, but he eagerly latched onto every single one, dead-set on following the traces to wherever the man disappeared to.

This visit turned shorter than the previous one, seeing as Enten’s domain was more or less void of Stanford’s traces and so full of magical energy that learning magic came to him naturally - he only hoped it would stay with him even after he left and luckily, it did.

He found his way out of there on his own, following the purple traces further through the endless fields until he eventually came across what looked like a sizable rabbit hole with a distinct purple circle around it. He questioned nothing and simply jumped, squeezing his eyes shut as he fell downwards and then disappeared from existence momentarily.

When he flicked back, he found himself lying on soft cotton with the sound and smell of rain filling the air around him. For a while, he did nothing but breathe in the fresh air that surrounded him and clung to him. But then it hit him. This would be Tad’s, Atomos’, domain - the Arch of Atomos, defined by an arch-like stairway seemingly disappearing between the clouds like cotton. His only hope at that time was that Tad would somehow side with him instead of seizing him and bringing him back to Bill.

So at first, he tried to avoid Tad, but considering the fact that this is his domain, Dipper knew that he couldn't escape his gaze for too long. Alas, Tad found him within hours of lurking and wandering about, simply enjoying the feeling of cool moisture coating his skin, too lazy to bid goodbye to the soft clouds beneath his sore feet.

Once the God loomed above him, it’s no secret that Dipper might have been just the slightest bit scared, afraid of being turned in like a guilty child. Which he kind of was. And still is.

To his surprise, Tad promised to keep his antics a secret if Dipper graces him with a stay and a conversation. What eventually leads them to this moment, 3 long years later, - Dipper is settled in and his things are safely in a room that Tad gave him for the time being. But now, he is sitting in a plush armchair (despite his weight, he is sinking in), cradling a spoon in his hand while his teacup floats in front of him. He watches it with dubious eyes, stopping only when he sees the God smiling at him from behind his own cup.

“So Dipper,” the man starts, crossing his legs, arms comfortably set on the chair’s armrests. Despite the air of authority, Tad radiates the aura of calmness and harmless friendship. Yet Dipper is rather watchful of this.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve last seen you and I must say that you’ve grown quite a lot. How have you been?”

“It’s been a journey,” Dipper retorts, toying with the spoon between his fingers,” I have been good. Had some bad days, some good ones.”  
As if to prove his point, he rolls up the long sleeves of his dark tee, showing Tad his scarred forearms from the many encounters he has had with the hostile inhabitants of the previous lands.  
“I’ve been through quite a lot but my magic has significantly improved--”  
That’s where he pauses, looking up at Tad with a frown, his eyes darkening for a second.

“...you are not siding with Bill on this one, are you? I know that you are well aware of his plan - but you do not approve either, right? Please, don’t lie to me…” Dipper’s eyebrows knit together, giving the God what he hopes is his best and most intimidating glare. Truth be told, however, he simply looks like an irritated kitten. He still has a long way until he gets to the intimidating part.

Tad smiles at him sadly, his shoulders slumping before his gaze slides to the floor.  
“As much as it pains me to say, no. I am not siding with him on this. He has his plans and motives - no matter how questionable those are - and I can do nothing to stop him. Even with all the things that are currently happening, I am no match for what’s about to come and while I believe he wouldn’t truly harm me, one thing I do know is, that he has different ways how to keep us all at bay and out of his way. And some which I know are far less merciful than death at his hands would be. What’s worse, he would go through all of us, death or no, no matter what. Even if it would seriously damage the balance of your world and throw it into a twister of disasters. He doesn’t think like that. For him, what matters in the long run..and short...is how his plans carry out and if they succeed.”

“And what if you all conspired against him? You four combined would have more power than he has and could take him down! ...or is there something that I am missing here…?” The brunet pauses, eyes skimming over the God, who seems reluctant to answer him.

“He is much stronger than us. And fighting him in his domain would be suicidal. We cannot afford that…..” Tad grabs his cup again, taking a sip before continuing,” but if there is one thing that can help...I know someone who can defeat him and I know something that could help. He’s been keeping things from you. A lot of them. It’s going to take a while to go through those of which I am aware, so bear with me. You might as well get comfortable.”

And Dipper does, with yet another frown, yanking his cup out of the air in one swing, holding the ceramic tightly. He thinks he is ready. He says that to himself a few times. Despite that, he definitely wasn’t ready for what Tad shared with him.

He was so so wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for Tad’s words. Or more, the entire story. It left him sitting there with the cup crushed in his palm, liquid staining his clothes. What tomfuckery did his life come to?

It went something like this:  
Fifty years ago, Cosmos chose Stanford Pines, the brother of Stanley and Shermie Pines, as his apprentice. Ford was about 20 or so back then and despite everything, he went with the God to train under him and to seek out answers to the endless questions his mind provided him with.

It lasted for a good decade or two during which Stanford worked on something. It’s not 100% confirmed what it was but it was meant to be used as a weapon of destruction. Another thing he was working on were portals. Tad said they were created by combining magic and physics but that he had never seen them for himself. Dipper supplies the information that he has and that’s how he jumped from a world to a world even though he, as a mere human with magical abilities, shouldn’t be able to. Shortly before finishing up, Stanford caught onto Bill’s evil plan for world domination (how original) and destroyed the weapon, the plans for it and fled the scene. No one has heard of him since. Except for Tad, as it turns out. During the discussion, he brought in another journal. Dustier than the one before, it’s cover half torn. While he continued, Dipper read through it.

Apparently, Ford sought to study Bill from afar and look for his weakness. Then, he planned to devise a plan against him to finally defeat him, spending another twenty years on the prospect. But according to Tad, he never finished and disappeared once again but this time, not even he knows where he went. Didn’t even say his farewells, just vanished into thin air like nothing.

That fact deeply concerned Dipper but he didn’t say anything, simply working through the journal continuously, pulling out the other one to compare them.

“You know...he never did destroy those plans completely,” the God opposite of him clears his throat awkwardly and gestures at the journal with his finger, flipping the pages until it stops on one with weird lines and symbols that make no sense at first glance.

“Join them.”  
Dipper looks at the God dubiously but doesn’t say anything, instead moving the journals around until he finds out how they fit together - “There is still one missing here…” He frowns and looks up at Tad, nearly shaking.

“We are missing one. Where is the third journal?” The voice which he says it in is unsettlingly calm and quiet and if Tad’s learned anything over the millennia, this doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“I..I don’t know. If it wasn’t with Bill, it must be with your uncle. There is no other place where it could be…”

Bu that doesn’t ease Dipper one bit. Stanford could be anywhere, for fuck’s sake, he could be dead already---! And then it hits him all at once like an avalanche. The first time he saw this book, he said that the symbols remind him of the symbols back at home above THE DOOR. The forbidden door. Stan has always made a point of not going there. But did the old man know what’s in there? Possibly. 

Abruptly, Dipper stands up, disregarding the pieces of his shattered teacup as they dig into his bare feet.

“I need a while. I need to look around. Please don’t disturb me, I want to be alone. Once I am ready, I’ll be back. It’s probably going to take a few days and after that, I’ll need your help but I will also need you to remain as discreet about it as possible…” Dipper states clearly, not waiting for any response from Tad before he is gone, marching out and down the spiral staircase. Time to do some exploring.

**Author's Note:**

> It would be lovely if you could tell me what you think about this and possibly leave a kudos to encourage me to continue.


End file.
